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CIHM/ICMH 

Microfiche 

Series. 


CIHIVI/ICIVIH 
Collection  de 
microfiches. 


Canadian  Instituta  for  Hiatorical  Microraproductions 


Inttitut  Canadian  da  microraproductiona  hiatoriquaa 


1980 


Technical  and  Bibliographic  Notaa/Notas  tachniquaa  at  bibliographiquaa 


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Colourad  covars/ 
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I      I   Covara  damagad/ 


Couvartura  andommagte 


□   Covara  raatorad  and/or  laminatad/ 
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Colourad  inic  (i.a.  othar  than  blua  or  black}/ 
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I — I   Colourad  platas  and/or  illustrations/ 


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12X 


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2DX 


a4X 


28X 


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1 

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(fl^  xr^-^^^'f  <^^WvA^{rv 


WVA^t/lTl/l^l 


THE 

Rockies  of  Canada 

A  REVISED  AND  ENLARCIED  EDITION  OF 
"CAMPING  IN  THE  CANADIAN  ROCKIES" 

WITH  MORE  THAN  FORTY  IMiOTOGRAVURE  AND  OTHER 
ILLUSTRATIONS  FROM  ORIGINAL  PHOTO- 
GRAPHS nv  THE  AUTHOR 


WALTER  DWIGHT  WILCOX,   F.R.G.S. 

AUTIIUK    iiK    "  PICTIJkKSf.il  K    I  ANDsCAIKs    IS    IIIK   CANADIAN 
KOCKV    mountains" 


H..-..-^ 


T^S  t 


G.  p.  PUTNAM'S  SONS 

NEW  YORK.  AND  LONDON 

Ubc  Knicherbocl^er  press 

KJOO 


COPVKIGHT,   1900 
BY 

WALTER  DWIGHT  WILCOX 


tEbe  Vmfckcrteckcr  ftCM.  Ilew  Borl 


\ 


PREFACE 


THE  Rocky  Mountains  of  Canada  offer  much  to 
those  who  love  the  study  of  nature  or  enjoy 
the  rougher  life  in  camp  with  its  attendant 
hunting  and  fishing  or  the  exercise  of  mountain  climb- 
ing. No  other  mountains  in  the  world  combine  with 
greater  charm  the  gentle  beauty  of  placid  lakes,  of 
upland  meadows  gay  with  bright  flowers,  or  the  vast 
sweep  of  green  forests,  with  the  stern  grandeur  of 
rugged  cliffs,  snow  fields,  and  magnificent  peaks 
which  are  characteristic  of  these  Canadian  Alps. 

The  encouraging  reception  given  to  his  previous 
work  has  led  the  author,  after  several  seasons  of  ex- 
ploration in  this  fascinating  region,  to  rewrite  and 
enlarge  Camping  in  the  Canadian  Rockies.  Since 
the  appearance  of  that  volume  he  has  visited  many 
new  and  interesting  places  and  secured  many  photo- 
graphs which  should  give  a  better  idea  of  this  new 
pleasure-ground.  The  commencement  of  serious 
climbing  by  travellers  from  this  country  with  Swiss 
guides,  and  by  several  noted  climbers  from  abroad, 
has  furnished  material  for  a  separate  chapter  on 
"Mountaineering."  Other  special  chapters  are  de- 
voted to  a  discussion  of"  Camp  Life,"  "  Hunting  and 


UI 


iv 


preface 


Fishing,"  and  of  that  very  interesting  tribe,  the 
"Stony  Indians." 

The  work  is  illustrated  by  photogravure  and  half- 
tone plates  from  original  photographs  by  the  author. 
In  books  where  natural  scenery  makes  an  important 
part,  good  photographs  give  a  clearer  idea  of  the 
country  than  word  painting,  however  faithful,  and 
with  the  knowledge  of  this  fact  no  pains  have  been 
spared  to  get  the  best  possible  effect  in  every  detail. 
The  illustrations  are  selected  from  a  large  collection, 
and  represent  many  toilsome  climbs  and  foot  jour- 
neys, made  under  the  heavy  and  sometimes  danger- 
ous burden  of  a  camera,  when  repeated  visits  to 
favoured  spots  year  after  year  have  not  always  met 
with  success,  and,  owing  to  smoke  of  forest  fires, 
or  the  accident  of  clouds  and  storm,  there  was  often 
no  reward  for  patient  effort. 

Two  maps  accompany  the  text;  one  a  special 
contour  map  which  shows  the  details  of  the  country 
near  Lake  Louise,  and  the  other  a  general  map  of 
the  Rocky  Mountains  compiled  from  all  the  best 
maps  hitherto  published,  supplemented  by  several 
recent  sketches. 

The  author  wishes  to  make,  in  this  place,  grateful 
acknowledgment  to  all  those  who,  by  kind  sugges- 
tion or  valuable  information,  have  made  this  work 
more  complete  than  would  have  been  otherwise 

possible. 

W.  D.  W. 

Washington,  D.  C,  June,  1900. 


CONTENTS 


CHAPTER 

I— The  Rockies  of  Canada 
II— Lake  Louise   . 
Ill— Its  Environment 
IV— Paradise  Valley 
V— Mt.  Assiniboine 
VI— A  Second  Visit 
VII— Camp  Life 
VIII— The  Bow  Lakes 
IX— The  Saskatchewan 
X— The  Athabasca 
XI— The  Middle  Fork 
XII— Sources  of  the  Vermilion 
XI 1 1— Mountaineering 
XIV— Hunting  and  Fishing     . 
XV— The  Stony  Indians 
Appendix 
Index      .... 


PAGB 
1 

12 

33 

54 

69 

98 

113 

139 

150 

168 

182 

196 

234 

258 

281 

297 

307 


I 

t 


PHOTOGR/iyURE  ILLUSTR/ITIONS. 

Frontispiece 


Mount  Assiniboine   . 

Banff  Springs  Hotel  . 

Bow  River  and  Cascade  Mountain 

Lake  Louise  and  Mount  Lefroy  . 

Lake  Louise  and  Mount  Victoria 

Lake  Agnes       .... 

In  larlyjuiy,  189$. 

Discovery  of  Paradise  Galley     . 
Mount  Temple  from  the  Saddle 
Camp  in  Paradise  Galley  . 
Mount  Assiniboine    . 
Lake  Aline       .... 

BillPeyto 

Camp  at  Little  Fork  Pass  . 
Mount  Balfour .... 
Upper  Bow  Lake 

Looking  south. 

Upper  Bow  Lake 

Looking  west. 

Source  of  the  Little  Fork  of  the  Saskatchewan 


River 


Storm  in  Little  Fork  Galley 


Page 

6 
10 

lb 

28 

48 

54 
60 

82 
108 
118 
128 
140 
144 

148 

lU 
182 


vU 


Vlll 


pbotoaravure  1Uu0tratton0. 


Page 
200 


Moraine  Lake 

Mouni  Hector  and  Slate  Mountains  .  .    2)8 

From  summit  of  a  mountain  near  Littit  Fork  Pass,  10,12$  feet  in  altitudt. 

Mount  Lefroy  and  Mount  yidoria  .    246 

From  Pope's  Peak,  983$  feet. 

The  iVaputehk  Range 252 

Looking  across  the  range  from  near  Hector, 

Mount  Sir  Donald,  from  Eagle  Peak  .  .  .256 
Head  of  Rocky  Mountain  Sheep  .  270 
in  the  Enemy's  Country 282 


\ 


ILLUSTR/ITIONS  OTHER  THAN 
PHOTOGRAyURE. 

Mount  Lefroy    .        .       .        .        , 

Mount  Assiniboine  from  the  East 

South  Side  of  Mount  Assinihoine 

On  the  Continental  Divide 

Breaking  Camp         .... 

Our  Camp  at  Moraine  Lake     , 

Fortress  Lake,  Looking  (Vest     , 

Fortress  Lake,  Looking  East 

Mount  Forbes  from  Survey  Peak  (Sooo  Feet) 

Summit  of  the  Baker  Pass 

Consolation  Valley 

Sketch  of  a  Part  of  the  Rocky  Mountains  be 
tween  the  Kicking  Horse  and  Vermilion 
P'^^^^s 

From  a  rough  survey  by  the  author. 

Pass  between  O'Hara  and  Prospector's  Valleys  . 
O'Hara  Lake  and  IViwaxy  Peak 

O'Hara  Lake 

Head  of  Rocky  Mountain  Goat  . 

A  Typical  Stony  Indian    . 

A  Stony  Indian  Mother  and  Children 


Maps 


Pagt 

40 

88 

94 
100 

122 

04 
172 

178 
188 

194 
204 


212 

222 
228 
2^2 
262 
286 
290 


In  pocket  at  end 


ix 


f 


M^ 


I    I 


THE  ROCKIES  OF  CANADA 


N 


4 


THE 
ROCKIES  OF  CANADA 


CHAPTER  I 

THE  CANADIAN  PLAINS— CHARACTERISTICS  OF  THE  RC  OKIES 
—COMPARISON  WITH  OTHER  GREAT  RANGES  OF  THE  WORLD 
—THE  NATIONAL  PARK  OF  CANADA— BANFF— A  VISIT  TO 
THE  devil's  lake  AND  GHOST  RIVER  VALLEY— SIR  GEORGE 
SIMPSON'S  JOURNEY  THROUGH  THE  MOUNTAINS— AN  INCI- 
DENT OF  INDIAN  WARFARE— THE  VERMILION  LAKES  AND 
SOME  FOREST  TREES  OF  THE  MOUNTAINS 

THE  western  plains  of  Canada,  rolling  in  gentle 
undulations  of  hill  and  dale,  extend  east  a 
thousand  miles  to  the  wheat  fields  of  Mani- 
toba, south  to  the  arid  plateau  of  Colorado,  and 
north  to  the  frozen  regions  of  the  Arctic  and  the 
Barren  Lands.  They  appear  to  have  no  definite 
limits  except  on  their  western  border  where  the 
Rockies  rise  out  of  them  like  rugged  shores  from  a 
_    u.  oea.    The  herds  of  innumerable  buffaloes  which 


3  Zbc  VocMes  ot  (^ana^a 

formerly  roamed  here  have  disappeared  through  the 
criminal  slaughter  of  the  white  man's  rifle,  though 
the  Indians  remain  as  a  last  relic  of  primitive  Western 
life  and  their  roving  bands  of  horsemen  give  a  dash 
of  life  and  colour  to  the  monotonous  plains.  For  a 
score  of  miles  or  more  there  is  a  region  of  quiet 
beauty  where  the  foothills  make  a  borderland  be- 
tween plains  and  mountains.  Here  rivers  fed  by 
melting  glaciers  and  snow  freshets  in  the  mountains 
make  their  way  eastwards  on  their  long  journey  over 
the  plains.  Their  terraced  valleys  are  covered  by  a 
thin  turf  which  is  brightened,  at  least  in  early  sum- 
mer, by  prairie  flowers,  while  the  higher  places  are 
crowned  with  groves  of  a  rough-barked  evergreen 
called  the  Douglas  fir.  The  Rockies,  like  an  impas- 
sable rampart,  terminate  these  hills  and  show  a 
multitude  of  snowy  peaks  extending  north  and  south 
beyond  the  limits  of  vision.  These  mountains  have 
on  their  eastern  side  a  rocky  escarpment  with  jutting 
headlands  towering  in  abrupt  cliffs  thousands  of  feet 
above  the  plains. 

The  great  system  of  the  Pacific  Cordillera,  which 
is  generally  called  the  Rocky  Mountains,  commences 
far  south  in  Mexico  and  sweeps  north  to  Alaska. 
The  alkaline  valleys  of  Nevada  and  the  glaciers  of 
Alaska,  the  cactus  of  Arizona  and  the  evergreen 
forests  of  British  Columbia  mark  the  diversity  of 
climate  in  a  mountain  system  of  such  vast  extent, 
while  the  granite  domes  of  the  Sierras,  the  bare  and 
lofty  summits  of  Colorado,  and  the  snow-covered 


[^  i 


Cbaracteri0tic0  of  tbe  l^ocMee 


dolomites  and  quartzite  ledges  of  the  Canadian 
Rockies  illustrate  the  possibilities  of  mountain 
forms. 

There  are  many  reasons  why  the  Rockies  of 
Canada  are  interesting  to  the  mountain  climber  and 
explorer.  They  have  only  recently  been  made  ac- 
cessible. Though  these  mountains  have  not  the 
absolute  height  of  those  in  Colorado,  their  apparent 
grandeur  is  greater  because  the  valleys  are  both  deep 
and  narrow,  richly  forested  and  frequently  guarded 
by  cliffs  which  are  precipitous  for  three,  four,  or 
even  five  thousand  feet.  Such  rock  walls  are  some- 
times adorned  by  clinging  trees  and  bushes  or  beauti- 
fied by  sparkling  waterfalls  playing  at  the  mercy  of 
changing  breezes  in  their  dizzy  fall.  Above  are  snow 
fields  and  hanging  glaciers  which  often  awaken 
thunders  among  the  mountains  by  avalanches  of  ice. 
There  are  besides  many  lakes  of  blue  or  bluish-green 
colour,  some  of  them  hidden  in  the  solitudes  of  ever- 
green forests,  others  enclosed  by  rugged  cliffs,  or 
exposed  on  the  open  expanse  of  upland  meadows, 
and  so  they  add  beauty  to  their  grand  environment. 

In  comparison  with  other  ranges  of  the  world,  the 
Canadian  Rockies  are  unusually  interesting.  The 
Andes  of  Ecuador,  Peru,  and  Chile  have  mountains 
from  twenty  thousand  to  twenty-three  thousand  feet 
above  sea-level,  or  nearly  twice  the  height  of  the 
greatest  peaks  of  southern  Canada.  The  highest 
mountains  in  the  world,  the  Himalayas,  reach  such 
stupendous  altitudes  that  no  human  being  may  hope, 


Z\)c  'Rocliiee  of  Cana^a 


I  I 


in  the  immediate  future  at  least,  to  reach  their  sum- 
mits on  foot.  But  these  great  ranges  lie  in  parts  of 
the  world  somewhat  remote  from  the  beaten  tracks 
of  travel.  Whymper's  description  of  the  Andes  in 
Ecuador  and  Fitz  Gerald's  of  those  in  Chile  show 
that  the  lack  of  vegetation  on  their  higher  parts 
gives  them  a  bare  and  dreary  aspect.  Sven  Hedin's 
account  of  the  Kuenlun  and  other  ranges  in  Central 
Asia  proves  that  they  are  likewise  comparatively 
bare  of  forests  and  that  their  grandeur  is  not  accom- 
panied by  beauty.  The  Caucasus  and  Alps,  espe- 
cially the  latter,  alone  equal  or  surpass  the  Canadian 
Rockies,  because  they  have  scenic  grandeur  of  snow 
fields  and  forests  combined  with  historical  interest. 

The  Canadian  Rockies  have  no  single  peaks  or 
groups  of  mountains  so  far  discovered  equal  to  the 
Jungfrau,  the  Matterhorn,  or  Mont  Blanc.  Their  wild 
and  secluded  valleys  echo  neither  to  the  tinkle  of 
bells  nor  the  call  of  horn.  Their  interest  depends  on 
natural  beauty  added  to  the  fact  that  their  solitudes 
are  as  yet  unfrequented  by  travellers.  Where  many 
of  the  larger  rivers  and  mountain  ranges  remain  as 
yet  unexplored,  every  side  valley  offers  some  pos- 
sibility of  discovery.  The  mountaineer  likewise 
standing  on  the  windy  summit  of  some  high  point  com- 
mands a  view,  not  of  a  limited  circle  of  mountains  as 
in  Switzerland  with  the  sea  and  plains  beyond,  but 
of  a  chaotic  upheaval  where  countless  peaks  and 
ridges  extend  in  every  direction  beyond  the  utmost 
possibility  of  vision  —  four   hundred  miles  to  the 


X 


;rbe  National  park  of  Cana^a  5 

Pacific,  a  thousand  towards  the  Arctic,  a  thousand 
and  more  southwards. 

All  this  region  was  practically  an  unknown  wilder- 
ness before  the  completion  of  the  Canadian  Pacific 
Road.  This  undertaking  was  formally  begun  on  the 
20th  of  July,  1 87 1,  when  British  Columbia  entered 
the  Dominion  of  Canada  and  on  which  day  the  first 
survey  parties  commenced  work.  Eleven  different 
routes  were  surveyed  across  the  several  ranges  of 
the  Rockies  before  the  work  of  construction  began. 
In  1880  the  Government  seemed  unable  to  make  any 
progress  in  so  vast  an  undertaking  and  gave  over  its 
control  to  a  private  corporation.  Under  new  man- 
agement, what  was  at  that  time  the  longest  railroad 
in  the  world  was  soon  an  accomplished  fact,  and  in 
1886  a  new  region  was  opened  to  mountain  climbers 
and  travellers. 

Places  of  unusual  interest  and  beauty  were  then 
chosen  among  the  mountains,  of  which  the  chief  is 
Banff  in  the  Canadian  National  Park.  This  reserve 
is  similar  in  aims  and  government  to  our  Yellowstone 
Park,  and  covers  at  present  260  square  miles,  and  has 
a  prospect  of  a  much  greater  extent  in  the  near 
future.  A  small  body  of  the  "North-west  Mounted 
Police  is  stationed  here  to  enforce  the  game  laws  and 
keep  order  generally.  Their  exploits  with  rebellious 
Indians  and  desperadoes  on  the  plains  make  the 
theme  of  many  exciting  tales.  They  wear  a  scarlet 
uniform,  Wellington  boots,  and  a  small  circular  cap 
gayly  tilted  to  one  side  of  the  head.    Their  duties  are 


,    I- 


^be  'Rochlcd  of  Canaba 


easier  now  than  a  few  years  ago  when  there  were 
laws  in  force  against  the  sale  of  whiskey,  for  many 
desperate  attempts  were  made  in  those  days  to 
smuggle  in  stimulants,  which  were  regarded  neces- 
sary to  stave  off  the  rigours  of  a  severe  climate.  The 
thirsty  inhabitants  of  Banff  met  with  some  success, 
though  in  the  process  many  bottles  were  smashed 
and  many  barrels  were  rolled  into  the  Bow  River. 
Whiskey  is  easily  obtained  by  everyone  now,  and 
the  people  have  accordingly  lapsed  into  temperance. 

The  village  of  Banff  consists  of  a  few  scattered 
houses  and  stores,  with  the  necessary  schoolhouses 
and  churches  for  the  enlightenment  of  the  people, 
and  several  hotels  for  the  entertainment  of  summer 
guests.  Some  excellent  roads  and  bridle-paths  lead 
through  pine  and  poplar  groves  to  places  of  interest, 
such  as  the  hot  sulphur  springs,  the  Spray  valley, 
and  Lake  Minnewanka. 

From  the  summit  of  Tunnel  Mountain,  which  is 
exactly  one  thousand  feet  above  Banff,  a  very  good 
idea  of  the  surrounding  region  may  be  had.  The  Bow 
River  comes  from  the  north-west,  passes  through 
the  village  of  Banff,  and  after  forcing  a  passage  be- 
tween great  mountains,  flows  east  to  the  plains, 
which  are  concealed  by  intervening  ranges.  Sout'i- 
wards,  for  many  miles,  may  be  seen  the  green  val- 
ley of  the  Spray  River,  an  unbroken  mass  of  forest 
enclosed  by  long  ridges,  one  of  which,  Mt.  Rundle,  is 
nearly  ten  thousand  feet  high  and  towers  a  mile  above 
the  Bow.     To  the  north-east  is  seen  the  end  of 


\ 


Banff  springs  Hotel. 


I 


t  ll 


Sanft 


Minnewanka  Lake,  beyond  a  series  of  gravel  riJges 
which  are  relics  of  the  glacial  period. 

About  one  mile  from  the  village,  on  an  eminence 
overlooking  the  junction  of  the  Bow  and  Spray  rivers, 
stands  the  Banff  Springs  Hotel.  The  Bow  River 
makes  a  fine  cascade  between  rocky  walls  just  below 
the  hotel,  which  latter  is  a  comfortable  place  with 
accommodations  for  a  large  number  of  guests.  The 
verandas  command,  from  a  considerable  height,  a 
magnificent  view  of  the  foaming  river,  while  a  vista 
of  snowy  peaks  almost  unrivalled  on  this  continent 
is  seen  in  the  distance  through  a  gap  in  the  nearer 
limestone  cliffs. 

Several  years  ago,  two  gentlemen  decided  to  as- 
cend Cascade  Mountain,  one  of  the  highest  peaks  of 
the  neighbourhood.  Instead  of  taking  such  advice 
as  was  offered,  they  would  have  it  that  a  course  over 
an  intervening  ridge  was  preferable  to  any  other. 
They  started  out  with  the  intention  of  returning 
within  twenty-four  hours,  but  instead  mysteriously 
disappeared  for  three  days.  Then  they  returned, 
much  to  the  relief  of  their  friends,  who  were  by  that 
time  alarmed  for  their  safety.  It  appears  that  they 
had  been  lost  in  a  region  of  burnt  timber  where  they 
had  wandered  hungry  and  hopeless  till  some  fate 
led  them  to  a  place  of  safety.  No  one  knows  how 
far  they  went  or  where,  but  it  is  certain  that  upon 
reaching  the  hotel  they  retired  to  their  rooms  and 
remained  there  the  greater  part  of  the  ensuing  week. 

In  the  early  summer  of  1899,  1  made  a  camping 


I 


i' 


11  il 


8 


^be  'RocMea  of  Canada 


trip  from  Banff  to  Lake  Minnewanka,  or  the  Devil's 
Lake,  and  along  its  north  shore  to  the  chain  of  pools 
beyond.  This  lake,  which  is  ten  miles  long,  though 
very  narrow,  is  like  a  bit  of  the  Mediterranean  set 
between  high  mountains.  An  excellent  trail,  much 
favoured  by  the  Indians,  follows  the  north  shore.  On 
the  second  day  wc  passed  the  end  of  Devil's  Lake 
and  made  camp  finally  by  the  borders  of  another 
small  lake,  in  a  place  almost  surrounded  by  mountains 
but  commanding  a  view  of  the  plains  towards  the 
east.  Our  camp  was  located  in  a  meadow  where 
innumerable  wild  flowers  blossomed,  and  among 
them  meadow  rue  and  wild  onions  grew  together. 
A  few  white  blossoms  —  albinos  —  were  mingled 
among  the  purple  heads  of  the  wild  onions.  These 
and  the  other  mountain  flowers  were  slowly  drown- 
ing under  the  rising  waters  of  the  lake,  which  was 
fed  no  doubt  by  underground  springs  from  the 
mountains. 

This  is  the  valley  of  the  Ghost  River,  a  strange  vale 
of  limestone  formation  where  no  streams  flow.  Tor- 
rents descend  gullies  and  waterfalls  dash  over  the 
vertical  walls  of  this  canyon,  but  each  one  of  them 
disappears  as  it  enters  this  Ghost  River  valley.  It  is 
supposed  to  have  been  the  ancient  valley  of  the  Bow, 
of  which  these  small  lakes  and  the  larger  Minne- 
wanka are  relics  of  the  former  channel.  A  few  miles 
to  the  east,  the  mountains  end  abruptly,  and  this  en- 
trance upon  the  plains  is  called  the  Devil's  Gap. 
What  with  a  gap,  a  large  lake,  and  a  mountain  a 


I 
I 


\ 


Bit  Incident  of  Indian  Martare 


9 


short  distance  to  the  north,  called  the  Devil's  Head, 
named  after  him,  his  Satanic  Majesty  seems  to  have  a 
mortgage  on  all  this  region.  All  the  large  rivers  of 
the  north-west  enter  upon  the  plains  from  these  kinds 
of  openings  which  are  called  gaps.  They  are  in  real- 
ity noble  thresholds  or  vestibules  between  the  rolling 
plains  and  the  mountains. 

This  Devil's  Gap  was  the  route  by  which  Sir 
George  Simpson  entered  the  mountains  in  1858  on 
his  journey  which  he  claims  was  the  first  overland 
expedition  around  the  world  from  east  to  west.  In 
this  part  of  his  journey  his  train,  consisting  of  forty- 
five  horses  and  a  large  number  of  packers,  was  guided 
by  an  Indian  named  Peechee.  The  guide  Peechee 
seems  to  have  possessed  great  influence  among  his 
fellows,  and  whenever,  as  was  often  the  case,  the 
Indians  gathered  around  their  camp-fires  and  gos- 
siped about  their  adventures,  Peechee  was  listened 
to  with  the  closest  attention.  Nothing  delights  the 
Indians  more  than  to  indulge  their  passion  for  idle 
talk  when  assembled  together,  especially  when  un- 
der the  soothing  and  peaceful  influence  of  tobacco  — 
a  surprising  fact  to  those  who  see  them  only  among 
strangers,  when  they  are  usually  silent. 

A  circumstance  of  Indian  history  connected  with 
the  east  end  of  the  lake  is  mentioned  by  Sir  George 
Simpson,  and  illustrates  very  well  the  nature  of 
savage  warfare.  A  short  time  previous  to  his  arrival, 
a  Cree  Indian  and  his  wife  had  been  tracked  and 
pursued  by  five  Indians  of  a  hostile  tribe.    At  length 


i  «' 


lO 


^be  KocMes  of  (^ana^a 


they  were  discovered  and  attacked  by  their  pursuers. 
Terrified  by  the  fear  of  almost  certain  death,  the 
Cree  advised  his  wife  to  submit  without  making  any 
defence.  She  was  possessed  of  a  more  courageous 
spirit,  however,  and  replied  that  as  they  were  young 
and  had  but  one  life  to  lose  they  had  better  exert 
every  effort  in  self-defence.  Accordingly  she  brought 
down  the  foremost  warrior  with  a  well-aimed  shot. 
From  very  shame  her  husband  was  forced  to  join  the 
contest  and  mortally  wounded  two  of  the  advancing 
Le  with  arrows.  There  were  now  but  two  on  each 
side.  The  fourth  warrior  had  by  this  time  reached 
the  Cree's  wife  and  with  upraised  tomahawk  was  on 
the  point  of  cleaving  her  head  when  his  foot  caught 
in  some  inequality  of  the  ground  and  he  fell  prostrate. 
With  lightning  stroke  the  undaunted  woman  buried 
a  dagger  in  his  side.  Dismayed  by  this  unexpected 
slaughter  of  his  companioi.s,  the  fifth  Indian  took  to 
flight  after  wounding  the  Cree  in  his  arm. 

One  of  the  most  interesting  excursions  in  the 
vicinity  of  Banff  is  a  boating  trip  up  the  Bow  River 
and  through  the  Vermilion  lakes.  This  part  of  the 
Bow  valley  above  the  falls  is  flat  and  the  river  is  here 
wide  and  deep,  with  a  comparatively  moderate  cur- 
rent. A  small  stream  half  a  mile  from  the  boat-house 
leads  to  the  Vermilion  lakes,  and  on  pleasant  sum- 
mer days  is  alive  with  canoes  and  boating  parties. 
The  stream  comes  from  two  shallow  lakes  not  far 
away,  and  the  voyage  thither  is  full  of  interest.  In 
places  the  waterway  is  too  narrow  to  permit  of  the 


suers. 
I,  the 
gany 
geous 
/oung 
exert 
ought 
shot. 
)in  the 
ancing 
n  each 
cached 
vas  on 
caught 
)strate. 
buried 
pected 
ook  to 


Boio  River  and  Cascade  Mountain. 


in  the 
f  River 
of  the 
is  here 
;e  cur- 
house 

sum- 
)arties. 
not  far 
St.    In 

of  the 


n 


> 


/ 


i  K^\ 


Zbe  IDcrmWon  Xaftce 


II 


use  of  oars  and  you  must  paddle  between  tangled 
bushes  and  marsh  grasses,  dodging  meanwhile  the 
overhanging  branches  of  willows  and  alders. 

On  these  lakes  there  is  an  excellent  opportunity 
to  study  some  of  the  characteristic  features  of  the 
Canadian  Rockies.    The  surrounding  mountains  are 
covered  with  evergreens,  part  of  that  great  subarctic 
forest   which   sweeps  down  from  the  north   and 
clothes  all  Canada  and  the  northern  States  in  a  gar- 
ment of  sombre  green.    The  trees  are  spruce,  balsam- 
fir,  and  pine.     On  the  sunny  south-facing  slopes 
there  are  a  few  large  Douglas  firs  which  penetrate 
the  lower  mountain  valleys  from  the  foothills,  but  do 
not  live  at  much  higher  altitudes  than  that  of  Banff, 
which  is  forty-five  hundred  feet  above  sea-level.  The 
open  glades  are  filled  with  small  aspen  poplars,  wil- 
lows, and  birches,  which  are  practically  the' only 
deciduous  trees.    These  live  only  at  the  lower  alti- 
tudes, but  the  spruces  and  balsam-firs  cover  the  grey 
limestone  mountains  to  a  height  of  nearly  three  thou- 
sand feet  above  this  valley.    The  red  squirrels  and 
chipmunks  surprise  the  visitor  by  their  tameness. 
Many  of  the  wild  birds  are  likewise  very  tame,  and 
1  have  seen  a  number  of  finches  engaged  in  picking 
seeds  from  bushes  within  two  yards  of  where  1  was 
walking. 


I 


I 


I' 


P 


CHAPTER  II 

EARLIEST  VISITS  TO  LAKE  LOUISE  —  VIEW  OF  LAKE  FROM 
THE  CHALET  —  DESCRIPTION  OF  THE  LAKE  —  SWAMP  FLOW- 
ERS— THE  WHITE-FLOWERED  RHODODENDRON —  THE  TRAIL 
NEAR  THE  LAKE  —  CLIFFS  OF  THE  WEST  SHORE  —  THE  DELTA 
OF  THE  INLET  STREAM— THE  ROCK  SLIDE  OF  THE  SOUTH 
SHORE— COLOUR  OF  LAKE  LOUISE  WATER — TEMPERATURE 
IN  MIDSUMMER— SOME  INSECT  PESTS — BATTLES  OF  HORSE- 
FLIES AND  WASPS — CHALET  LIFE — SUMMER  CLIMATE  AT 
THE  LAKE— THUNDER-STORMS— LIGHT  EFFECTS  AND  COLOUR 
ILLUSIONS— AN  OCTOBER  VISIT  TO  LAKE  LOUISE— AN  AVA- 
LANCHE FROM  MT.  LEFROY— A  WARNING  OF  WINTER'S 
APPROACH 

LAKE  LOUISE  is  near  the  Bow  valley,  about 
forty  miles  from  Banff.  Who  first  discovered 
the  lake  or  whatever  became  of  him  is  lost  to 
history.  It  is  probable  that  venturesome  spirits  came 
to  this  wild  spot  during  the  early  years  of  railroad 
building,  or  possibly  when  the  first  surveyors  as- 
cended the  Bow  valley. 

The  earliest  record  of  a  visit  that  I  have  been  able 
to  find  tells  how,  in  1882,  Tom  Wilson  was  camped 
with  a  pack  train  near  the  mouth  of  the  Pipestone, 
when  some  Stony  Indians  came  along  and  placed  their 
teepees  near  him.  Not  long  after,  a  heavy  snow- 
slide  or  avalanche  was  heard  among  the  mountains 

12 


lA^ 


£arlie0t  lDt0it0  to  lahe  Xouiae 


>3 


to  the  south,  and  in  reply  to  inquiry  one  of  the 
Indians  named  Edwin,  the  Gold  Seeker,  said  that  the 
thunder  came  from  a  "big  snow  mountain  above 
the  lake  of  little  fishes."  The  next  day  Wilson  and 
Edwin  rode  through  the  forests  to  the  lake  of  little 
fishes,  which  was  named  subsequently  for  the  Prin- 
cess Louise.  The  Indian  told  of  two  smaller  lakes 
higher  on  the  mountain  side  to  the  west,  one  of 
which,  called  by  him  the  **  Goats'  Looking-Glass," 
is  now  known  as  Lake  Agnes. 

This  region  being  away  from  the  main  routes  of 
travel,  and  surrounded  as  it  is  by  a  knot  of  high 
mountains,  no  one  hoped  to  find  a  pass  in  this  direc- 
tion, and  no  mention  of  it  is  made  in  the  records  of 
the  earliest  explorers.  Somewhat  more  to  our  pur- 
pose is  the  fact  that  the  place  is  now  well  known 
and  Lake  Louise  may  be  reached  with  little  effort. 

Some  time  before  1890,  a  rustic  inn  was  placed  on 
the  swampy  shore  of  the  lake,  and  a  waggon  road 
was  made  to  open  communication  with  the  railroad 
at  the  little  station  of  Laggan.  In  this  way  the  first 
travellers  came  to  Lake  Louise.  But  one  day  in  1893 
this  log  building  caught  fire,  and  burned  to  the 
ground,  so  that  there  were  no  accommodations  and 
very  few  visitors  that  summer.  However,  with  a 
friend  I  spent  two  weeks  of  that  season,  camping  out 
in  a  tent  among  the  tall  trees  near  the  shore,  and  in  a 
small  way  we  commenced  our  earliest  explorations 
of  the  neighbourhood,  which  was  at  that  time  com- 
paratively new. 


mi 


I 


»j  J 


«l 


14 


TEbe  'RocMe0  of  Canaba 


The  new  chalet  stands  on  a  ridge  near  the  water 
edge  and  gives  a  splendid,  and  possibly  the  best, 
view  of  the  lake.  The  extreme  length  of  this  in- 
teresting body  of  water,  which  is  shaped  like  the  left 
human  foot,  is  one  mile  and  a  quarter,  but  from  the 
magnitude  of  the  mountains  on  every  side  it  appears 
at  first  glance  to  be  a  mere  pool.  The  primitive 
simplicity  of  a  virgin  forest  is  shown  in  its  densely 
wooded  shores  and  the  tangle  of  bushy  banks  where 
fallen  trees,  mossy  in  decay,  are  half  concealed  by 
underbrush  and  flowering  shrubs.  A  narrow  margin 
of  angular  stones  and  rounded  boulders  marks  the 
shore  line.  From  this  the  bottom  drops  away  very 
suddenly  to  great  depths,  but  you  may  see  large 
stones  under  the  water  and  water-logged  hulks  of  old 
trees  swept  long  ago  from  their  positions  on  the 
mountain  sides  by  avalanches. 

Lake  Louise  has  the  enduring  attraction  of  nature 
in  one  of  her  grandest  and  most  inspiring  moods.  It 
is  a  deeply  coloured  lake  between  wooded  slopes^ 
which  sweep  upwards  on  either  side  in  unbroken 
masses  of  green,  to  barren  cliffs  above  tree  line.  On 
the  left  the  forest  growth  ascends  more  steeply  to 
the  base  of  a  grand  precipice,  while  farther  down  the 
lake  a  massive  pile  of  fallen  rocks  rests  against  the 
mountain  base  and  dips  abruptly  into  the  water. 
Mt.  Victoria,  a  giant  of  the  continental  watershed, 
stands  square  across  the  valley  end  beyond  the  lake. 
Its  brilliant  ice  fields  make  striking  contrast  to  the 
dark  forests  and  shadowy  cliffs  encircling  the  lake. 


V 


Swamp  f  lovpere 


15 


In  early  morning  and  during  calms  after  a  storm,  the 
placid  surface  reflects  the  precipices  and  hanging 
glaciers  of  the  distant  Mt.  Victoria,  and  brings  that 
picture  of  Alpine  grandeur  in  pleasing  proximity  to 
the  beauty  of  spruce-lined  shores  and  richly  coloured 
water.  These  mountain  outlines  are  so  harmonious, 
and  the  colour  changes  so  exquisite,  that  Lake  Louise 
is  a  realisation  of  the  perfect  beauty  of  nature  beyond 
the  power  of  imagination.  Though  surprisingly  at- 
tractive to  the  new  arrival,  Lake  Louise,  like  many 
another  beautiful  phase  of  natural  scenery,  grows  in 
impressiveness  when  experience  has  given  a  true 
idea  of  the  distance  and  magnitude  of  the  surrounding 
mountains. 

The  swampy  shore  before  the  chalet  makes  a 
fine  display  of  wild  flowers  even  in  these  times  when 
a  new  set  of  visitors  comes  every  day  to  tear  them 
up.  Every  spot  in  these  mountains  has  its  character- 
istic plants  according  to  the  nature  of  the  ground  and 
its  altitude  above  sea.  There  is  at  this  end  of  the 
lake  a  low  and  swampy  shore,  reeking  with  surface 
water  from  cold  springs,  unable  to  escape  through 
the  clayey  soil  beneath.  Yellow  violets  and  several 
species  of  anemones  thrive  here  together  with  a  con- 
siderable number  of  greenish  orchids,  and  the  fragrant 
lady's  tresses,  but  by  far  the  most  beautiful  flower  is 
the  yellow  mountain  columbine,  a  near  cousin  to  the 
scarlet  variety  of  our  eastern  rock  banks.  There  are 
several  shrubs,  of  which  red-flowered  sheep-laurel 
and  white-tufted  Labrador  tea  are  most  conspicuous, 


i6 


Zbc  IRocMcQ  of  Canaba 


the  leaves  of  the  latter  being  covered  underneath 
with  a  rusty  down,  hi  the  retirement  of  partial  forest 
shade  the  beautiful  white-flowered  rhododendron 
grows.  This  bush  has  tender  leaves  of  an  oval 
shape,  and  is  decorated  in  spring  with  large  bell- 
shaped  flowers,  which  hang  their  white  corollas  in 
artistic  clusters  among  the  foliage.  In  June  you  will 
find  them  in  bloom  near  Lake  Louise,  but  the  bush 
grows  higher  on  the  mountains  also,  and  there  they 
blossom  in  July,  or  rarely  in  August.  As  in  many 
other  mountain  plants,  the  succession  of  flowers 
throughout  the  summer  season  comes  from  the  low- 
est valleys  upwards  to  higher  altitudes.  The  scrub 
birch,  Betula  glandulosa,  has  no  flowers  except  in- 
conspicuous catkins,  but  its  long  black  wands  and 
small  round  leaves  soon  become  familiar  to  every 
visitor  to  these  mountains,  for  this  bush  is  rarely 
absent  from  any  mountain  meadow. 

A  rather  rough  trail  closely  follows  the  north  shore, 
and  with  perseverance  you  may  arrive  at  the  far  end 
of  the  lake.  New  mountains  appear  as  you  proceed, 
and  the  form  of  the  lake,  which  from  the  chalet 
seems  like  a  round  pool,  changes  apparently  into  a 
long  and  narrow  body  of  water.  Through  a  vertical 
opening  in  il.?  cliffs  at  the  head  of  the  lake,  Mt. 
Lefroy  looms  in  the  distance,  crowned  with  a  helmet 
of  perpetual  snov  and  hanging  glacier.  The  extreme 
end  of  the  lake  is  guarded  by  a  vertical  cliff.  The 
trail  ascends  to  avoid  a  pile  of  stones  which  have 
fallen  from  above,  and  so  trfiverses  a  grassy  slope, 


4 


derneath 
:ial  forest 
)dendron 
an  oval 
rge  bell- 
jrollas  in 
you  will 
the  bush 
lere  they 
in  many 
'  flowers 
the  low- 
he  scrub 
xcept  in- 
inds  and 
to  every 
is  rarely 


Lake  Louise  ami  Mount  Lefroy. 


th  shore, 
far  end 
roceed, 

e  chalet 

y  into  a 
vertical 

ke,  Mt. 
helmet 
xtreme 
The 
h  have 
slope, 


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f 


I 


1\ 


I 


■•I  f! 


1.  ♦I* 


1    I 


^be  ^rail  near  tbe  Xaftc 


17 


where  the  blue  sky  above  is  portrayed  in  the  petals 
of  the  most  perfect  forget-me-nots  that  I  have  ever 
seen.  Their  cheery  yellow  eyes  and  bright  blossoms 
decorate  tall  branching  plants,  and  make  a  pretty  dis- 
play tlii'oughout  the  entire  summer. 

Then  the  trail  descends  directly  towards  the  cliffs, 
winds  among  great  spruce  trees,  and  enters  a  place 
of  sombre  and  perpetual  twilight,  made  by  over- 
hanging cliffs  and  forest  depths.  This  is  a  marvellous 
revelation  of  the  stupendous  grandeur  of  these  Rocky 
Mountains.  The  cliffs  are  disposed  in  horizontal 
layers  of  a  hard  and  shiny  quartz  sandstone,  stained 
red  and  orange  transversely  by  iron,  and  vertically 
banded  purple  and  black,  where  oozing  waters  drip 
from  the  trees  above.  Throughout  the  first  three 
hundred  feet  the  cliff  rises  sheer,  or  overhangs  in 
some  places  where  large  blocks  of  this  world  masonry 
have  fallen  and  left  natural  arches.  On  the  higher 
places  spruce  trees  cling  with  precarious  foothold, 
their  trunks  parallel  to  the  cliff,  and  so  measuring  the 
inspiring  height  of  the  precipice.  The  lapping  water, 
a  few  yards  below,  touches  the  base  of  a  pile  of 
immense  rocks,  heaped  in  confusion  as  they  have 
fallen  from  the  crags,  whence  danger  seems  to 
threaten  as  you  appro.ich. 

Emerging  from  this  place  of  sjlemn  grandeur,  the 
trail  leads  down  to  a  flat  riieadow  at  the  head  of  Lake 
Louise.  Here  marsh  reeds  and  white-tufted  cotton- 
grass  grow  in  the  sand  and  gravel  which  a  muddy 
stream  has  carried  down  to  the  lake  from  a  glacier  a 


H\ 


li 


i8 


^be  'RocMed  of  Canada 


H 


\ 

;      I 


!i 


mile  or  more  up  the  valley.  This  is  in  fact  a  delta, 
which  is  slowly  growing  as  the  coarse  materials  are 
added  to  the  shore,  while  the  finer  sand  and  clay  rush 
out  in  a  tongue  of  milky  water  to  defile  the  blue  lake. 
About  a  quarter  mile  of  the  ancient  lake  basin  has 
been  filled  in,  but  as  this  has  no  doubt  required  all 
the  thousands  of  years  since  the  glacial  period,  and 
the  lake  itself  is  exceedingly  deep,  many  ages  must 
elapse  before  the  lake  entirely  disappears. 

It  is  almost  impossible  to  continue  the  journey 
ai  r-'r\  the  lake,  as  the  inlet  stream  is  rather  difficult 
to  c:  ,  and  ihe  south  side  of  the  lake  for  nearly  a 
mile  is  nothing  less  than  a  tremendous  conical  pile 
of  stones  resting  against  the  mountain  side.  This 
place  is  well  worth  thorough  exploration  in  a  boat. 
Some  banks  of  snow,  left  by  winter  snow-slides,  often 
remain  till  August,  in  one  or  two  shady  spots  near 
the  water.  The  rock-slide  is  composed  of  small  and 
large  fragments  disposed  in  unstable  equilibrium,  at 
an  angle  of  about  forty-five  degrees,  and  descending 
below  the  water  at  the  same  angle,  so  that  at  two 
hundred  feet  from  the  shore  the  depth  is  about  two 
hundred  feet.  These  rocks  are  richly  coloured  with 
lichens  of  various  shades.  Part  of  the  slide  is  covered 
by  birch  and  willow  brush.  Even  a  few  spruces 
have  ventured  to  grow  in  this  perilous  place,  though 
the  green  vegetation  is  everywhere  scored  by  narrow 
bands  of  bare  ground,  showing  where  rocks  and 
snow-slides  have  swept  rcsistlessly  through.  In  fact  it 
is  rather  dangerous  to  approach  very  near,  even  in  a 


ii 


Colour  of  Hafte  Xouiee  Mater 


19 


boat,  as  stones,  which  travel  at  great  speed,  may  fall 
at  any  time  from  the  cliffs.  Above  the  slide  an  al- 
most perpendicular  wall  of  rock  ascends  more  than  a 
thousand  feet,  and  then  rises  less  abruptly  till  it  ends 
in  the  summit  of  Fairview  Mountain  3300  feet  above 
the  lake. 

The  usual  colour  of  Lake  Louise,  which  varies  con- 
siderably according  to  the  effect  of  sunlight,  is  a 
robin's-egg  blue.  Tyndall  says  that  this  blue  colour 
of  glacial  water  and  lakes,  like  that  of  the  sky,  is  due 
to  infinitesimally  small  particles  of  matter  held  in 
suspension.  The  water  is  very  clear  in  early  spring, 
but  the  incoming  streai;*  brings  down  a  muddy  freshet 
from  the  glacier  during  July  and  August,  so  that  a 
milky  colouring  then  appears  and  lasts  till  the  frosts 
of  October.  The  lake  finds  an  outlet  near  the  chalet 
in  a  broad  and  shallow  stream,  but  after  a  few  hundred 
yards  this  changes  to  a  boulder-strewn  torrent  where 
it  begins  a  rapid  descent  of  six  hundred  feet  to  the 
Bow  River.  The  deepest  place  in  the  lake  is 
230  feet,  and  this  is  near  the  rock-slide.  With 
a  long  rope  and  a  piece  of  iron  pipe  I  got  some 
mud  from  the  bottom  where  the  water  was  two 
hundred  feet  in  depth.  This  mud  is  the  very 
finest  rock  dust  ground  up  by  the  glacier,  which 
settles  to  the  bottom  century  after  century,  where  it 
remains  as  a  fine  clay  and  upon  drying  turns  to  a 
white  powder.  At  certain  times  the  surface  of  the  lake 
is  covered  by  a  kind  of  yellow  scum  that  on  examina- 
tion proves  to  be  pollen  from  the  spruce  forests. 


20 


^ 


^be  'RocMee  of  Canaba 


The  temperature  of  the  water,  coming  as  it  does 
from  a  glacial  stream  and  melting  snow,  is  very  cold, 
and  the  highest  point  reached  in  August  is  57  de- 
grees, which  is  about  the  average  daily  temperature 
of  the  air  for  this  month,  at  Lake  Louise.  There  is  a 
spring  near  the  chalet  which  pours  out  a  little  stream 
of  sparkling  water  only  five  degrees  above  freezing, 
and  1  found  another  at  the  north  end  of  the  lake  only 
one  and  one-half  degrees  above  freezing.  Never- 
theless in  this  very  coldest  water  some  brown  con- 
fervas grow. 

Small  brook  and  rainbow  trout  live  in  the  lake, 
but  the  fishing  is  not  very  exciting,  as  the  countless 
flies  and  moths  that  are  blown  upon  the  water  in  the 
daily  south  wind  supply  an  abundance  of  food.  No 
reason  is  apparent  why  large  fish  are  not  found  here 
as  in  other  similar  lakes  in  these  mountains,  but 
possibly  the  fine  mud  in  the  water  makes  a  poor 
habitat  for  lake  trout. 

Nature  rarely  permits  perfection,  and  the  wonder- 
ful beauty  of  Lake  Louise  is  somewhat  balanced  by 
mosquitoes  which  swarm  from  June  till  the  middle  of 
August.  Newcomers  are  most  annoyed,  especially 
those  from  Europe  where  mosquitoes  are  scarce,  but 
old-timers  are  practically  immune  from  their  attacks 
and  from  any  poisonous  effect  of  their  bites.  Several 
different  species  of  mosquitoes  are  found  here,  and, 
not  to  go  into  the  scientific  names,  they  may  be 
classed  as  small  grey  ones  and  large  brown  fellows, 
some  that  fly  on  silent  wing,  and  others — the  worst 


I      I  I 


Some  Insect  peetd 


21 


of  all — that  announce  their  pestiferous  presence  by 
persistent  singing.  Fortunately  the  nights  are  cold 
enough  to  make  them  retire  after  about  nine  o'clock. 

Another  insect  pest  is  a  large  horse-fly  appropri- 
ately called  the  "bull-dog"  from  its  ferocious  bite, 
which  feels  like  a  fiery  spark.  They  are  among  the 
toughest  of  all  insects  not  protected  by  a  case  as 
beetles  are,  and  fly  away  unharmed  after  receiving  a 
hard  blow  of  the  hand.  These  bull-dogs  frequent 
all  the  lower  valleys,  and  appear  during  the  warm 
summer  days,  when  they  drive  horses  nearly  frantic. 
Their  instinct  leads  them  to  bite  only  rough  things 
and  so  leave  your  face  and  hands  alone.  Thus  they 
spend  most  of  their  time  prodding  your  clothes  in 
vain  and  testing  the  rough  hide  of  a  horse,  but  they 
sometimes  make  mistakes. 

The  bull-dogs  and  wasps  wage  continual  warfare, 
and  this  species  of  fly,  which  invariably  gets  the 
worst  of  it,  would  certainly  disappear  if  the  wasps 
were  not  so  few,  or  the  flies  not  practically  inex- 
haustible. Their  miniature  battles  are  most  interest- 
ing. Sometimes  you  will  see  a  wasp  pursue  and 
capture  a  fly  in  mid-air,  whereupon  the  contestants 
fall  to  the  ground  and  for  a  moment  it  is  impossible 
to  follow  the  movements  of  either  in  their  mad 
buzzing  circles.  From  the  whirling  centre  of  motion 
come  legs  and  wings,  and  in  a  brief  moment  the  fly 
is  powerless,  shorn  of  every  means  of  movement  by 
the  sharp  jaws  of  the  wasp.  Finally  the  wasp  cuts 
off  the  head  of  its  helpless  victim  and  leaves  the 


(i 


ii 


; 


W 


I 


^\ 


22 


Zbc  IRoctikB  of  Cana^a 


lifeless  body  that  it  may  continue  the  chase.  These 
acts  of  the  wasps  are  assuredly  cold-blooded  and 
murderous,  for  the  victim's  body  is  neither  eaten  nor 
carried  away  for  future  use.  Some  old  family  feud 
must  be  at  the  bottom  of  it  all. 

Simplicity  of  chalet  life  at  Lake  Louise  and  per- 
haps even  more  the  adventures  on  the  mountains 
beget  a  ready  acquaintance,  which  often  ripens  into 
lasting  friendship.  It  is  a  study  in  human  nature  to 
watch  the  new  arrivals  day  by  day,  and  to  observe 
the  effect  on  each  of  the  superb  view  which  appears 
where  the  road  emerges  from  the  forest.  Some 
people  are  overawed  and  stand  on  the  lake  shore  in 
silent  wonderment,  while  the  majority  exclaim  "This 
is  the  most  beautiful  scene  I  have  ever  looked  upon." 
A  few,  after  a  brief  glance  at  the  lake,  hasten  into  the 
chalet  for  something  to  eat,  thus  balancing  their 
hunger  for  material  things  and  their  love  of  nature, 
in  uneven  scale,  but  giving  a  testimonial  at  the  same 
time  to  the  value  of  mountain  air  as  an  appetiser. 

Many  interesting  people  are  found  among  the 
visitors,  while  the  good  cheer  and  hearty  comrade- 
ship that  reign  in  this  simple  place  are  contagious. 
At  evenirig  a  large  fireplace  is  heaped  with  pine  logs, 
and  a  fire  is  kindled  which  throws  light  and  cheerful 
warmth  against  the  chill  of  frosty  nights.  Then 
amid  curling  smoke  and  the  clink  of  glasses  the  mis- 
haps of  the  day  are  related.  Often,  too,  you  rnay 
hear,  from  travellers  who  have  visited  the  remotest 
parts  of  the  earth,   perhaps  thrilling  accounts  of 


Summer  Climate  at  tbe  Xalte 


23 


leopard,  and  tiger-hunts  in  the  jungle,  blood-curdling 
tales  of  treachery  and  massacre,  or  daring  exploits 
in  the  Indian  wars. 

In  May  or  early  June  the  ice  breaks  up,  and  the 
forests  near  the  lake  are  free  from  snow.  The  sum- 
mer climate  is  cool  and  the  highest  temperature  ever 
recorded  is  78  degrees.  The  altitude  above  sea, 
as  near  as  I  could  determine  from  a  series  of  baro- 
metrical observations,  is  5643  feet.  The  nights  are 
always  cool,  and  sometimes  a  frost  occurs  even  in 
July  or  August.  At  daybreak  the  lake  is  usually 
placid  and  reflects,  like  a  great  mirror,  the  mountains 
and  wooded  shores,  but  so  soon  as  the  summer  sun 
has  tempered  the  frosty  air  the  breezes  begin  to  stir, 
at  first  imperceptibly  in  gentle  zephyrs,  which  touch 
the  motionless  water  some  distance  down  the  lake. 
Then  rippled  places  appear,  enlarge  very  quickly, 
and  presently  make  a  continuous  band  across  the 
lake.  One  end  of  the  lake  may  thus  remain  under 
the  influence  of  wind  for  an  hour  or  more  while  the 
other  is  quiet,  but  the  strength  of  the  breezes  con- 
tinues to  grow  as  the  sun  gains  power,  till  at  noon 
the  entire  lake  is  almost  invariably  covered  with  lit- 
tle whitecaps.  The  wind  dies  away  after  sunset, 
and  by  midnight  a  frosty  calm  settles  once  more 
upon  the  lake.  Then  the  roar  of  the  glacial  stream, 
a  mile  and  a  half  distant,  unheard  by  day,  becomes 
plainly  audible  in  the  quiet  night  air. 

The  approach  of  storms  is  announced  by  wisps 
of  cirrus  cloud  which  move  from  west  to  east  and 


Ml 


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T^ 


I 

!) 

HI 


84 


Zhc  IRocWq  of  Canada 


presently  make  a  hazy  veil  which  partially  obscures 
the  sun.  A  soft  wind  blows  from  the  south-west, 
while  the  smoke  of  forest  fires  increases  and  adds  to 
the  bluish  haze.  Sometimes  this  smoke  is  laden 
with  white  ash-flakes,  which  may  have  travelled 
hundreds  of  miles  from  fires  on  the  Pacific  coast,  or 
in  the  Kootenay  country,  and  the  distant  mountains 
often  withdraw  from  sight  in  a  bluish  obscurity. 
The  first  rain  usually  commences  in  a  thunder-storm, 
which  comes  crashing  through  the  mountains  with 
its  accompaniment  of  wind  and  hail,  leaving  the 
forests  moist,  and  the  peaks  hung  with  clinging 
mists.  A  violent  storm  at  night  among  these  mount- 
ains is  one  of  the  most  inspiring  phenomena  of  na- 
ture. A  continuous  roar  from  the  forest,  stirred  by 
the  gale,  mingled  with  the  crash  of  conquered  trees, 
is  momentarily  lost  in  thunder,  echoed  and  rolled 
back  from  rock  cliffs  and  mountain  sides.  A  hoarse 
murmur,  which  is  not  the  roar  of  ocean  surf,  but  the 
lesser  voice  of  a  small  mountain  lake  lashed  to  fury, 
comes  from  the  shore. 

The  gloom  of  these  night  storms  is  followed  by  a 
period  of  calm,  not  less  impressive  in  majestic  reve- 
lations. At  such  times  dawn  shows  the  clouds  low 
on  the  mountains,  sulking,  as  it  were,  before  the 
coming  victory  of  the  sun.  The  rising  sun  awakens 
uncertain  movements  in  the  motionless  mist,  and 
causes  moist  air  currents  to  ascend  and  form  new 
clouds,  while  others  descend  in  counter  currents, 
spin  out  into  wisps  of  fog,  and  disappear  again  like 


V 


ii 


: 


ligbt  j6trcct0  anO  Colour  1Uu0lon0       25 


cloud  ghosts  into  thin  air.  Suddenly  a  mountain, 
covered  with  a  mantle  of  fresh  snow,  appears  above 
the  rolling  masses,  and  the  sun,  breaking  through, 
pours  a  shaft  of  light  that  in  its  long  pathway  leaps 
from  mountains  and  clouds  to  fall  into  the  lake. 
Changeable  breezes  make  ripples  on  the  calm  water, 
then  cease,  only  to  breathe  upon  another  place  like 
the  last  dying  gasps  of  storm. 

The  first  two  or  three  days  after  a  severe  rain  are 
more  beautiful  than  any  others,  it  is  impossible  to 
tell  or  paint  the  beautiful  colours,  the  kaleidoscopic 
change  of  light  and  shade,  under  such  conditions. 
They  are  so  exquisite  that  one  refuses  to  believe 
them  even  in  their  presence,  so  subtle  in  change,  so 
infinite  in  variety,  that  the  memory  fails  to  recall 
their  varying  moods.  I  have  seen  twenty  shades  of 
green,  and  several  of  blue,  in  the  waters  of  Lake 
Louise  at  one  time.  Sometimes  in  the  evening, 
when  the  quantity  of  light  is  rapidly  diminishing, 
and  the  lake  lies  calm,  or  partly  tremulous  with  dy- 
ing ripples,  marked  vertically  by  the  reflections  of 
cliffs  and  trees,  there  is  a  light  green  in  the  shallow- 
est water  of  the  east  shore,  a  more  vivid  colour  a  little 
farther  out,  and  then  a  succession  of  deeper  shades 
merging  one  into  another  by  imperceptible  change, 
yet  in  irregular  patches  according  to  the  depth  of 
water,  to  the  deep  bluish-green  and  blue  '  the  mid- 
dle lake.  The  eye  wanders  from  place  to  place  and 
comes  back  a  few  moments  later  to  where  the  bright- 
est colours  were,  but  no  doubt  they  are  gone  now. 


II 


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it; 


n 


a6 


(Tbe  'Rocltlee  ot  Cana6a 


and  the  mirror  surface  is  dulled  by  a  puff  of  air,  while 
the  sharp  reflections  have  been  replaced  by  purple 
shadows,  or  the  obscure  repetitions  of  the  red  brown 
cliffs  above  the  water,  it  may  be  that  a  day,  a  year, 
or  possibly  a  century  will  pass  before  those  identical 
glories  of  colour  will  come  again. 

Among  many  marvellous  effects  of  light  and  colour, 
one  that  occurred  on  a  September  afternoon  remains 
distinct  in  my  memory.  The  sky  immediately  over- 
head was  clear,  but  massive  clouds  were  brooding 
above  the  snowy  crest  of  Mt.  Victoria.  A  mysteri- 
ous calm  pervaded  the  cool  air,  and  the  water  lay 
tremulous  with  that  gentle  motion  which  is  the  final 
pulsing  of  ripples  before  utter  quiet  settles  on  a 
sleeping  lake.  The  distant  valley  and  the  farther 
reaches  of  water  were  obscured  by  a  gloomy  5'  ''de 
of  motionless  clouds.  An  arching  band  0  'it 
bathed  their  edges  in  brilliant  silver,  overleapt  the 
dark  curtain,  and  descending,  fell  into  the  abyss  of 
water  near  the  north  shore,  to  develop  there  a  poison- 
ous looking  green  colour,  intensely  strong  in  com- 
parison with  the  darkness  beyond.  The  sun's  rays 
breaking  through  the  clouds  threw  light  on  various 
parts  of  the  lake,  steeping  in  vivid  sea-green  the 
tawny  reflections  of  iron-stained  cliffs  and  the  bril- 
liant yellows  of  autumn  willows  and  larches,  only  to 
bury  them  again  in  shadow.  The  lake  seemed  like 
a  great  basin  filled  with  liquid  under  magic  spell, 
where  the  quietly  changing  sunbeams  resembled 
an  enchanter's  wand,  which  at  the  lightest  touch 


>      » 


Bit  October  IDielt  to  Xafte  Xoutee 


a; 


produced  wonderful  colourings  and  weird  effects  in 
the  uncertain  light. 

I  once  made  an  interesting  visit  to  Lake  Louise  in 
October.  The  previous  September  had  been  a  month 
of  disagreeable  weather  and  continuous  snow-storms. 
Then  followed,  as  often  happens  in  the  Canadian 
Rockies,  a  month  or  more  of  bright  weather  which  is 
the  true  Indian  summer  and  has  peculiar  charms  of 
its  own.  I  could  not  resist  the  temptation,  as  the 
morning  train  approached  the  station  of  Laggan,  to 
improve  an  excellent  opportunity  for  another  study 
of  Lake  Louise.  Sunrise  had  been  unusually  bril- 
liant and  there  was  every  prospect  of  a  fine  day. 
After  breakfast  at  the  station-house  I  set  forth  on 
the  hard  frozen  road  toward^  the  lake.  1  carried 
lunch  in  my  pocket,  and  an  ever  faithful  camera 
strapped  to  my  shoulders,  while  for  a  companion 
I  coaxed  an  idle  dog  to  accompany  me.  The  air  was 
cold,  and  the  feeble  October  sun  had  not  as  yet 
struck  into  the  forest  and  removed  the  frost  from 
moss  and  fallen  leaves.  In  somewhat  less  than  an 
hour  I  arrived  at  the  lake.  Ail  was  deserted ;  the 
chalet  closed,  the  keeper  gone,  and  the  lake  restored 
to  primeval  solitude.  Of  insect  life  there  was  none, 
for  the  busy  swarms  of  bull-dogs  and  mosquitoes 
had  been  annihilated  by  nights  of  frost,  or  else  were 
hibernating  till  another  season.  Most  all  of  the 
flowers  were  withered  and  frost-bitten,  the  deciduous 
bushes,  but  lately  decked  in  gay  autumn  colours, 
were  scattering  dead  leaves  on  the  ground,  while  the 


ll'l 


:,'■ 


i  t 


77 
1  h 


38 


Zbe  1Roc\{\ee  of  Canada 


larches  far  up  on  the  mountains  marked  a  band  of 
pale  yellow  between  the  green  spruces  and  the  bare 
slopes  above  tree  line.  However,  the  greater  part 
of  Rocky  Mountain  plants  are  evergreen,  so  that  the 
spruces,  balsams,  and  pines,  no  less  than  the  under- 
growth of  heath:i  and  mosses,  find  a  way  of  defying 
winter  by  wearing  a  garb  of  perpetual  summer. 

The  lake  rested  motionless  and  half  lighted  by 
the  early  morning  sun.  There  is  rarely  much  sky 
colouring  at  sunrise  or  sunset  in  these  mountains. 
The  dry  atmosphere,  especially  at  this  season,  has 
little  power  to  dissolve  the  white  light  into  rainbow 
hues  and  produce  those  deep  and  richly  varied  colours 
which  occur  in  lowland  regions  or  on  the  sea.  The 
tints  are  pure,  clear,  and  cold  like  the  air  itself.  They 
are  merely  delicate  shades  or  colour  suggestions^ 
whicii  recall  those  faint  but  exquisite  hues  seen  in 
topaz,  transparent  quartz,  or  tourmaline  crystals,  in 
which  the  minutest  trace  of  some  foreign  mineral  has 
created  rare  spectrum  colours  and  impriso'^'^d  them 
there  for  ever.  This  morning  the  snowy  mountain 
tops  were  tinted  a  clear  pink  beautifully  contrasted 
against  an  intensely  blue  sky. 

My  breath  rose  straight  upwaids  in  the  calm  air. 
The  mirror  surface  of  the  lake  was  disturbed  by  some 
wild  fowl  —  black  ducks  and  northern  divers  —  which 
frequent  the  lake  at  this  season.  Their  splashings 
and  the  harsh  cries  of  the  divers  came  faintly  over 
the  water.  It  seemed  strange  that  these  familiar 
haunts  could  become  so  fearfully  wild  and  lonely 


b 


Lake  Louise  and  Mount  Victoria. 


n 


>  *i 


(I 


U 


ffp 


Bn  Hvalancbe  from  fl>t  Xefro^ 


29 


merely  because  man  had  resigned  his  claims  to  the 
place.  Suddenly  a  wild,  unearthly  wail,  from  across 
the  water,  the  cry  of  a  loon,  which  is  one  of  the 
most  melancholy  of  all  sounds,  startled  me  and 
abruptly  ended  my  reverie  on  solitude. 

Accordingly  1  walked  down  the  north  shore  of 
the  lake  with  the  intention  of  going  several  miles  up 
the  valley  and  taking  some  photographs  of  Mt.  Le- 
froy.  The  flat,  bushy  meadows  near  the  upper  end 
of  the  lake  were  cold,  and  all  the  plants  and  reedy 
grass  were  white  with  frost.  The  towering  cliffs 
and  castle-like  battlements  of  the  mountains  on  the 
south  side  of  the  valley  shut  out  the  sun  and  pro- 
mised to  prevent  its  genial  rays  from  warming  this 
spot  till  late  in  the  afternoon.  In  the  frozen  ground 
1  saw  the  tracks  of  a  bear,  made  probably  the  day 
before.  Bruin  had  gone  up  the  valley  somewhere 
and  had  not  returned,  so  there  was  the  possibility  of 
making  his  acquaintance. 

I  was  well  repaid  for  my  visit  by  seeing  a  magni- 
ficent avalanche  fall  from  Mt.  Lefroy,  a  rock  mount- 
ain which  rises  in  vertical  cliffs  between  two  branches 
of  a  glacier  encircling  its  base.  A  hanging  glacier 
rests  on  the  highest  slope  of  the  mountain  and  forms 
a  vertical  face  of  ice  over  two  hundred  feet  thick  at 
the  top  of  a  precipice.  At  intervals,  sometimes  of 
days  or  weeks,  masses  of  ice  break  from  the  hang- 
ing glacier  and  fall  with  thundering  crashes  to  the 
valley. 

I  was  standing  at  a  point  about  two  miles  distant 


;  'i 


i: 

i'  ^ 


il; 


,;'   ,j 


i. 


li 


30 


^be  1?ocMe0  of  Cana^a 


when,  from  the  vertical  ice-wall,  a  fragment  of  the 
glacier,  representing  its  entire  thickness,  broke  away, 
and,  turning  slowly,  began  to  fall  through  the  airy 
abyss.  In  a  few  seconds  of  continued  silence,  for  no 
sound  had  yet  reached  me,  the  heavy  mass  struck  a 
projecting  ledge,  after  falling  half  a  thousand  feet, 
and  there  was  shivered  into  innumerable  pieces  and 
clouds  of  powdered  ice,  as  though  it  had  been  rent  by 
some  great  explosion.  Simultaneously  came  the 
first  thundering  roar  of  the  avalanche.  Then  for  two 
thousand  feet  more  the  greater  masses  of  ice  led  the 
way,  leaping  from  ledge  to  ledge,  some  of  them  whirl- 
ing round  in  mid-air,  while  others  shot  downwards 
like  meteors,  trailing  behind  snowy  streams  brushed 
off  in  their  awful  flight.  In  a  long  succession  of 
white  curtains  resembling  a  splendid  waterfall,  the 
smallest  particles  followed  after.  The  loud  crash 
which  signalled  the  first  destruction  of  the  icy  mass 
now  grew  into  a  prolonged  thunder,  mingled  with 
explosive  reports  of  bursting  fragments  as  they 
collided  in  mid-air  or  dashed  against  projecting  parts 
of  the  precipice.  It  was  like  the  sound  of  battle, 
where  the  clash  of  arms  and  the  sharp  crack  of 
rifies  are  accompanied  by  a  continuous  roar  of 
artillery. 

The  north  face  of  Mt.  Lefroy  is  a  practically  ver- 
tical cliff  twenty-five  hundred  feet  from  base  to  top. 
Imagine  then  a  precipice  sixteen  times  higher  than 
Niagara,  at  the  top  of  which  stands  a  hanging  glac- 
ier crevassed  into  yawning  caverns,  ever  moving 


,4 


a  Marnina  of  Minter'd  Hpproacb 


31 


tie, 
of 
of 


ng 


resistlessly  forwards  and  threatening  at  any  time  to 
launcli  tremendous  masses  of  ice  into  the  valley 
below.  Such  avalanches  are  among  the  most  thrilling 
spectacles  of  nature.  The  majestically  slow  move- 
ment of  these  masses  as  they  commence  to  fall  is  a 
measure  of  much  greater  heights  and  depths  than  the 
eye,  deceived  by  the  clear  mountain  air,  can  at  first 
appreciate.  The  first  movements  of  these  avalanches 
proceed  in  total  silence,  and  the  ice  may  fall  a  thous- 
and feet  or  more  while  the  sound  is  travelling  the 
intervening  distance,  to  awaken  echoes  among  the 
cliffs  and  startle  the  mountaineer.  1  have  often 
noticed  that  the  thunder  of  avalanches  from  Mt. 
Victoria  requires  twenty  seconds  to  reach  the  chalet, 
so  that  by  that  time  there  is  often  nothing  but  a 
white  cloud  to  indicate  what  has  occurred. 

I  got  back  to  Lake  Louise  again  about  one  o'clock. 
A  local  breeze  made  a  narrow  lane  of  ripples  in  the 
midst  of  a  surface  otherwise  perfectly  calm.  This 
was  one  of  those  rare  days  when  the  lake  is  undis- 
turbed by  wind  at  midday  under  a  clear  sky,  for  the 
wind  generally  comes  and  goes  with  the  rising  and 
setting  of  the  sun.  The  morning  chill  had  been 
tempered  by  the  October  sun  and  a  few  forest  birds 
were  flitting  silently  among  the  trees,  but  the  flowers 
and  butterflies  of  summer  were  no  more.  It  seemed 
the  last  expiring  effort  of  autumn,  when  at  any  time 
a  sudden  storm  might  wrap  the  landscape  in  snow 
and  bind  the  lake  with  ice.  Even  at  this  warmest 
time  of  day  the  feeble  sun  rays  seemed  unable  to 


!  i' 


Mi 


I 


1 


'fr 


I'    i 


32 


ZTbe  Itocltiee  of  Canaba 


fully  heat  the  air,  while  the  cold  forest  shadows  and 
unmelted  frosts  gave  warning  that  winter  was  pre- 
paring to  descend  from  the  mountains,  and  rule  un- 
interrupted for  a  period  of  eight  or  nine  months. 


! 


I     1 


i    V. 


i;  I 
1'  I 


I 


CHAPTER  ill 

THE  ENVIRONMENT  OF  LAKE  LOUISE  — ORGANISATION  OF 
A  CAMPING  PARTY  —  ALPINE  FLOWERS  —  LAKE  AGNES  — 
MOUNTAIN  SOLITUDES  —  VIEW  FROM  THE  LITTLE  BEE- 
HIVE—THE VICTORIA  GLACIER  —  AN  ACCIDENT  ON  MT. 
LEFROY  —  A  RETURN  FOR  AID  —  INDIAN  CONSOLATION  — 
ASCENT  OF  A  SNOW  PASS  —  DISCOVERY  OF  A  NEW  VAL- 
LEY—  EXPLORATION  OF  A  DELIGHTFUL  REGION  —  A  FOR- 
EST BIVOUAC  — INDIAN  SARCASM 


li! 


1!.^ 


THE  environment  of  Lake  Louise  is  wild  and 
rugged.  The  snowy  mountains  seen  be- 
yond the  water,  Mt.  Victoria  and  Mt.  Lefroy, 
form  part  of  the  continental  watershed  and  are 
among  the  finest  peaks  of  southern  Canada.  The 
spur  ranges  make  a  complex  knot  of  splendid  mount- 
ains towering  from  four  to  six  thousand  feet  above 
the  valleys.  These  latter  abound  in  lakes  and  forests 
in  striking  contrast  to  the  bare  rocks  and  dazzling 
snow  fields  of  the  high  altitudes.  The  forces  of 
nature  have  made  here  a  wonderful  combination  of 
gloomy  gorges  and  tremendous  cliffs,  limestone 
pinnacles,  and  crevassed  glaciers. 

To  explore  this  chaotic  wonderland,  then  but  little 
known,  and  to  learn  something  of  the  neighbouring 
valleys  and  mountains,  a  party  of  college  men  was 

33 


i 


!i 


: 


{    i 


I 


34 


ITbe  ItocMee  ot  Canaba 


organised  in  1894,  and  met  at  Lake  Louise  in  July. 
One  member  of  our  party  was  an  enthusiastic 
hunter,  another  eager  for  the  glories  of  mountain 
climbing,  one  was  a  disciple  of  Daguerre,  while  the 
two  others  were  ready  to  join  almost  any  undertak- 
ing whatever.  Yandell  Henderson,  Lewis  Frissell, 
and  1  were  the  first  to  meet  at  Lake  Louise,  but  we 
had  not  been  there  long  before  our  spirits  were 
cheered  by  the  arrival  of  our  friend  George  Warring- 
ton. After  a  few  preliminary  excursions  had  been 
made,  to  get  in  condition  for  more  arduous  trips, 
Samuel  Allen,  with  whom  1  had  made  several 
mountain  ascents  in  previous  years,  completed  our 
party  towards  the  middle  of  July. 

A  common  purpose  helped  the  unity  of  our  work, 
which  was  to  explore  the  region  immediately  around 
Lake  Louise,  to  ascend  some  high  peaks,  and  to  ob- 
tain photographs  of  the  scenery.  Through  Warring- 
ton's ingenuity  in  contriving  a  winding  reel,  the  lake 
was  sounded  and  then  mapped  and  contoured. 
Henderson  added  to  our  larder  by  his  skill  with  a 
rifle,  while  the  rest  of  us  climbed  mountains  and 
made  maps. 

Our  first  excursion,  and  one  that  nowadays  is 
very  popular  with  visitors,  was  to  Lake  Agnes.  A 
trail  leaves  the  chalet,  and  by  a  course  of  zigzags 
through  the  forest  ascends  the  sloping  mountain 
west  of  the  lake.  The  tall  coniferous  trees  cast  a 
cool  shade  and  shut  out  the  mountain  world  till  an 
ascent  of  a  thousand  feet  has  been  made.    An  older 


HIpine  flowere 


35 


IS 

A 

ags 

:ain 

a 

an 


trail  then  leads  off  to  the  right  and  presently  comes 
out  on  a  bare  slope,  swept  of  trees  years  ago  by  a 
winter  snow-slide.  A  wonderful  view  is  here  dis- 
closed. Mirror  Lake,  a  small  pool,  is  several  hundred 
feet  below,  shut  off  from  breezes  by  an  encircling 
forest  and  a  great  cliff  called  the  Beehive,  whose  ta- 
pering form  and  horizontal  bands  of  red  and  grey 
rocks  suggest  its  name.  On  the  right  of  the  Bee- 
hive, Lake  Agnes  appears,  partly  concealed  by  Ly- 
all's  larch,  and  from  it  comes  a  cascade  that  dashes 
over  rocky  ledges  down  to  Mirror  Lake.  Mt.  Lefroy 
and  Mt.  Aberdeen  across  the  valley  seem  far  higher 
than  they  did  twelve  hundred  feet  below.  Where  the 
avalanche  has  swept  away  the  forest  trees,  a  growth 
of  bushes  and  herbs  has  restored  the  green  colour  to 
the  mountain  side  and  added  beauty  to  it  by  means 
of  a  multitude  of  Alpine  flowers.  The  great  mount- 
ain anemone,  showing  rigid  white  flowers,  and  com- 
pound leaves  divided  again  and  again  into  fern-like 
tracery,  grows  here  among  the  rocks.  It  should  be 
called  the  snow-flower,  for  it  is  the  first  to  awaken 
at  the  touch  of  spring  and  bloom  at  the  edges 
of  melting  snow-banks.  I  have  seen  their  burst- 
ing buds  surrounded  by  an  inch  of  snow  ready  to 
open  in  to-morrow's  sun.  Sometimes  the  great 
anemone  blossoms  in  August  or  September  on  Al- 
pine highlands,  where  perhaps  the  snows  of  winter 
have  been  unusually  deep,  and  a  false  spring  comes 
in  autumn  when  the  belated  meadows  are  at  last 
uncovered.    This    plant  bears  a  tufted    bunch  of 


;  !?! 


i 


1 


36 


Zl)c  'RocMcd  ot  Cana^a 


■ii 


f( 


plumed  seeds  which,  at  full  development,  is  twelve 
or  eighteen  inches  above  the  ground,  and  these  tas- 
seled  heads  make  a  conspicuous  display  in  every 
high  mountain  meadow. 

Somebody  has  said  that  edelweiss  and  Scotch 
heather  grow  on  this  slope.  There  are  two  plants 
resembling  them,  one  an  antennaria,  and  the  other  a 
heath  called  bryanthus,  which  has  small  purple 
blossoms  remarkably  like  the  Scotch  heather.  Why 
does  not  somebody  import  the  seeds  or  roots  of  the 
Swiss  edelweiss  and  plant  them  here  ?  Then,  as  in 
the  Alps,  lovers  can  risk  broken  limbs  to  show  their 
devotion.  These  Canadian  Rockies  have  the  grand- 
eur and  beauty  of  the  Alps,  but  need  their  romance 
and  poetry,  picturesque  mountain  villages,  cattle 
pasturing  on  the  upland  meadows,  or  the  calls  of 
the  shepherd  and  yodel  to  awaken  the  forest  echoes. 

The  trail,  which  is  soon  lost  among  the  attrac- 
tions of  this  place  by  anyone  not  devoting  his  atten- 
tion to  it,  appears  again  on  the  farther  side  of  the 
avalanche  track.  It  makes  a  dizzy  course  along  the 
face  of  moss-fringed  cliffs,  glistening  in  places  with 
spring-water.  Spruce  trees  have  established  a  foot- 
ing wherever  there  is  the  slightest  opportunity,  often 
on  the  very  edge  of  the  precipice,  so  that  their 
spreading  branches  lean  far  out  from  the  cliff,  and 
their  bare  roots,  like  writhing  serpents,  are  flattened 
in  narrow  fractures  of  the  rocks.  These  wooden 
anchors  have  safely  outlived  a  thousand  mountain 
storms  and  may  see  as  many  more. 


h     vt 


Ive 
as- 
ery 


tch 

nts 

?ra 

pie 

^hy 

the 

;  in 

leir 

nd- 

nce 

ttle 

of 

es. 

ac- 

en- 

the 

the 

ith 

ot- 

:en 

eir 

nd 

ed 

en 

lin 


Lake  Agnes, 
fn  early  J^uly,  /.flptj. 


1^ 


'i^-iwZu'sjtJ&r'^^ari&'UyA/wf '^  -i«.s 


'If 
'ft 


'« 


f  1/ 


*-\' 


I  r 


V  It 


'I'' 


i 

t 

M 

f'   ■ 

|l          1 

t' 

|1 

1 

1 

ill 

H 

■      ! 

1  1 

i>ii 

i* 


lafte  Bdncd 


37 


Lake  Agnes  is  a  wild  tarn  imprisoned  by  cheer- 
less cliffs.  At  one  end  there  is  a  narrow  fringe  of 
trees,  but  the  lake  on  either  side  is  bordered  by 
barren  angular  stones,  where  nothing  grows.  Its 
northward  exposure  and  the  towering  walls  of  a 
great  amphitheatre  keep  out  the  sun  and  allow  the 
snow  to  linger  here  all  summer.  One  year  the  ice 
did  not  melt  away  till  the  end  of  July,  and  a  thin 
sheet  oi'  ice  often  forms  on  clear  summer  nights.  1 
have  seen  the  lake  covered  with  winter  ice  again  in 
October.  This  lake  is  about  one-third  of  a  mile  in 
length.  The  water  is  green,  and,  coming  as  it  does 
from,  melting  snow  and  springs,  is  so  clear  that  the 
rough  bottom  m:iy  be  seen  at  great  depths.  It  is 
almost  the  only  rock-basin  lake  that  1  have  seen  in 
the  mountains  and,  like  all  other  lakes  that  have  not 
been  sounded,  it  is  fathomless. 

The  solitary  visitor  to  the  lake  is  soon  oppressed 
with  a  sensation  of  utter  loneliness.  All  these  sur- 
roundings are  desolate  and  a  perpetual  silence  reigns, 
except  for  the  sound  of  a  rivulet  falling  over  rocky 
ledges  on  one  side.  The  faint  pattering,  echoed  by 
opposite  cliffs,  seems  to  fill  the  air  with  a  murmur 
which  is  faint  or  distinct  at  the  mercy  of  fickle 
breezes.  The  elusive  sound  starts  from  every  side, 
or  dies  away  into  nothing,  and  seems  almost  superna- 
tural because  the  ear  is  powerless  to  tell  whence  it 
comes.  The  shrill  whistle  of  a  marmot,  the  hoary 
badger  of  the  Rockies,  often  breaks  this  unwonted 
silence  in  a  startling  manner.    Once  a  visitor  to  the 


'.    I 


■h   1 


u 


ip 


I 


.    I 
I'    • 

[    I 


38 


^be  KocMes  of  Cana^a 


lake  cut  short  his  stay  and  hurried  back  to  the 
chalet  upon  hearing  one  of  these  loud  whistles,  which 
he  thought  must  be  the  signal  of  robbers  or  Indians 
about  to  commence  an  attack. 

Many  excursions  of  interest  may  be  made  on  this 
mountain  side,  but  none  commands  a  finer  panorama 
of  the  surrounding  region  than  the  top  of  a  rock 
buttress  called  the  Little  Beehive.  This  is  half  a 
mile  north  of  Lake  Agnes  and  is  merely  a  knob  upon 
a  greater  mountain.  Vertical  precipices  form  the  side 
towards  Lake  Louise,  but  there  is  a  flat  top  of  several 
acres  extent  covered  with  a  most  beautiful  growth  of 
the  scraggly  Lyall's  larch,  whose  feathery  needles 
merely  filter  but  do  not  interrupt  the  streaming  sun- 
light. A  generous  share  comes  to  the  huckleberry 
bushes  and  Labrador  tea  which  grow  underneath. 
They  need  all  they  get,  for  it  is  a  long  way  north 
here,  besides  being  seventy-five  hundred  feet  above 
sea-level,  where  snow  falls  every  month  of  the  year 
and  the  air  is  warm  only  at  midday.  To  the  north- 
west you  may  see  a  lake  near  the  source  of  the  Bow 
River,  Mt.  Hector,  towering  like  an  uplifted  castle 
eleven  thousand  feet  above  sea-level,  standing  be- 
tween this  valley  and  the  Pipestone,  then  far  away 
eastwards  beyond  Pilot  Mountain  (formerly  a  land- 
mark for  the  surveyors)  thirty  miles  down  the  Bow 
valley,  and  finally  a  nearer  mass  of  giant  peaks  to  the 
south-east  and  south,  which  are  strangers  to  us  yet, 
together  with  the  now  familiar  peaks  of  Mt.  Lefroy 
and  Mt.  Victoria.    1  have  never  seen  this  glorious 


ZTbe  tDictoria  Glacier 


39 


ensemble  of  forests,  lakes,  and  snow  fields  surpassed 
in  an  experience  on  the  summits  of  more  than  forty 
peaks  and  the  middle  slopes  of  as  many  more  in  the 
Canadian  Rockies.  And  the  best  part  of  it  all  is, 
that  a  most  indifferent  climber  can  easily  reach  this 
place  and,  with  care,  a  horse  might  be  led  to  the 
summit. 

Before  our  party  was  complete,  Henderson,  Fris- 
sell,  and  1  made  an  excursion  to  Mt.  Lefroy,  which 
gave  us  more  caution  ever  after  and  nearly  resulted 
fatally  for  one  of  us.  After  crossing  the  lake  in  a 
boat,  we  ascended  the  valley  for  a  mile  to  the  end  of 
a  glacier  which  is  the  source  of  the  Lake  Louise 
stream.  This  glacier  is  forr  od  from  two  branches, 
one  of  which  fills  the  valley  between  Mt.  Aberdeen 
and  Mt.  Lefroy,  while  the  other  comes  from  a  narrow 
canyon  called  the  Death  Trap.  Thus  Mt.  Lefroy 
stands  like  a  precipitous  island  in  a  sea  of  ice.  We 
crossed  the  muddy  glacial  stream  and  after  climbing 
the  sharp-edged  moraine  descended  upon  the  glacier. 
This  glacier  is  about  three  miles  in  length  by  half  a 
mile  wide.  Its  upper  part,  or  neve,  is  comparatively 
clear,  but  many  stones  cumber  the  ice  at  its  lower 
end,  increasing  ever  towards  the  snout,  till  at  length 
this  dirtiest  glacier  of  the  Rockies  ends  dismally  and 
indefinitely,  buried  beyond  recognition  in  a  confused 
moraine.  The  burden  which  the  glacier  carries  is  a 
mass  of  limestones  and  shales,  which  have  fallen  from 
the  cliffs  up  the  valley  and  are  being  slowly  trans- 
ported to  the  terniinal  moraine.     You  may  walk 


, 


li 


40 


^be  'Roclties  ot  (^ana^a 


.1 


! 


half  a  mile  over  the  lower  glacier  and  not  once  touch 
the  ice  under  this  covering  of  stones.  There  is  one 
large  pile  of  shale  blocks,  which  have  been  apparently 
dumped  upon  the  glacier  all  at  one  time,  in  which 
some  of  the  stones  measure  fifteen  or  twenty  feet  in 
length. 

Passing  the  ice-pillars,  with  their  protecting  caps 
of  stone,  streams  gliding  silently  over  the  glacier  sur- 
face in  polished  channels  of  ice,  and  the  dark  crev- 
asses, into  some  of  which  these  streams  fall  with  a 
hollow  roar,  we  came,  after  an  hour  of  walking,  to 
the  foot  of  Mt.  Lefroy.  There  is  a  snow  couloir 
on  the  north  side  of  this  mountain  which  seemed  to 
offer  a  possible  way  up  a  precipice  about  seven  hun- 
dred feet  high.  Above  this  precipice  there  is  an 
easier  slope  to  the  summit,  and  we  thought  that, 
once  arrived  there,  nothing  could  prevent  our  ascent 
of  the  mountain.  An  exploration  was  accordingly 
begun  of  this  couloir  in  an  effort  to  see  how  far  it 
was  practicable  in  view  of  some  future  ascent.  The 
snow  slope,  which  was  comparatively  easy  at  first, 
soon  increased  lO  a  pretty  stiff  angle  four  or  five 
hundred  feet  above  the  glacier,  and  it  seemed  better 
to  try  the  rock  cliffs  on  one  side.  We  were  now  en- 
closed by  limestone  cliffs  disintegrated  by  frost.  It 
was  in  fact  one  of  those  narrow  and  precipitous 
gulches  of  the  Canadian  Rockies  which  are  most 
dangerous  to  climbers.  On  either  side  of  us  there 
were  overhanging  walls,  decayed  limestone  pillars, 
tottering    masses   of  broken    stone   with  daylight 


i        I 


> 
o 

IT 


(- 

z 


iff 


i 

1 

!' 


«f 


ill 


'in 


■n  f 


Bn  Hcci^ent  on  dbt  Xefroi? 


41 


showing  through  the  cracks,  and  a  thousand  rocks 
resting  threateningly  balanced  and  apparently  ready 
to  fall  at  a  feather's  touch.  That  we  were  not  dis- 
mayed at  this  hopeless  prospect  proves  that  we 
were  more  audacious  than  prudent. 

At  length  when  reaching  upwards  for  a  handhold, 
with  a  boost  from  below  and  my  face  against  the 
limestone,  1  saw  a  large  and  dangerous-looking  stone 
poised  above  us.  "  Fellows,  we  must  look  out  for 
that  stone,"  said  1,  "and  not  let  the  rope  touch  it." 
A  moment  after,  Henderson  and  I  were  above  this, 
climbing  another  rock  ledge,  when  we  heard  the 
grinding  sound  of  the  large  stone  moving.  We 
turned  in  time  to  see  Frissell  falling.  The  rope  tight- 
ened and  held  him  on  a  ledge  ten  feet  below,  but  the 
tremendous  stone,  which  must  have  weighed  a  ton, 
was  rolling  over  and  coming  down  upon  him.  For 
a  brief  but  awful  moment,  helpless  and  immovable, 
as  in  a  frightful  dream,  we  saw  the  stone  leap  out 
into  the  air  to  descend  upon  our  poor  comrade,  but  he 
made  a  desperate  movement,  pressing  hard  against 
the  cliff,  and  escaped  the  full  force  of  the  blow. 
Then  the  whole  place  resounded  with  the  hollow 
rattle  of  falling  stones  as  they  danced  in  a  shower  of 
death  below  us. 

We  found  that  Frissell  could  not  stand,  one  leg 
being  perfectly  helpless,  v^hile  he  was  so  dazed  by 
the  shock  that  he  fainted  twice  in  our  arms.  We 
were  many  miles  from  assistance  and  it  was  after  two 
o'clock.    Uncoiling  the  full  length  of  the  rope,  one 


1^' 


if 


11 


!  i 


4a 


^be  llocMee  of  Canada 


'I 


I 


end  was  fastened  round  his  waist,  and  the  other 
round  mine.  With  an  ice-axe  buried  to  the  head  in 
the  snow  as  an  anchor,  I  paid  out  the  rope  and  low- 
ered our  helpless  friend  fully  fifty  feet.  Then  Hen- 
derson went  down  and,  anchoring  himself  in  like 
manner,  held  him  while  1  came  down.  This  opera- 
tion, repeated  a  number  of  times,  brought  us  soon 
upon  the  comparatively  level  glacier.  Removing  my 
coat  for  him  to  lie  on,  1  started  to  the  chalet  for  aid. 
Heedless  of  crevasses,  over  the  crumbling  moraine 
and  rough  stones  to  the  trail  around  the  lake,  run- 
ning at  all  times  except  in  the  very  roughest  places, 
1  covered  in  seventy  minutes  what  had  required  three 
hours  to  walk  in  the  morning.  Arrived  at  the  chalet 
completely  exhausted,  I  hope''  to  find  sufficient  aid 
there  to  make  up  a  relief  party,  but,  as  ill  luck  would 
have  it,  only  Joe  Savage,  the  cook,  was  at  the  chalet. 
Mr.  Astley,  the  manager,  and  two  Indians,  Tom 
Chiniquay  and  William  Twin,  were  on  the  mount- 
ain near  Mirror  Lake.  So  while  Savage  got  poles 
and  canvas  ready  for  a  litter,  I  commenced  a  tiring 
climb  for  the  others.  Coming  at  length  upon  Wil- 
liam, where  he  was  cutting  out  a  trail,  1  addressed 
him  in  the  Indian  way  of  speaking  English  :  ''Wil- 
liam, three  white  men  go  up  big  snow  mountain. 
Big  stone  come  down — hurt  one  man.  I  think  Tom, 
Mr.  Astley,  you,  all  go  up  snow  mountain— bring 
white  man  back."  William  asked,  "  Kill  him  ?  "  but 
his  face  showed  anxiety  till  I  told  him  that  our  friend 
was  still  alive,  though  he  must  hurry.    Dropping  his 


a  ^Return  tor  M\b 


43 


axe,  he  ran  off  for  the  others  who  were  higher  upon 
the  mountain,  while  1  returned  to  the  chalet  and 
made  ready  some  food  and  whiskey.  Thus  a  relief 
party  of  four  was  soon  started. 

On  the  ba:k  of  an  Indian  cayuse  1  galloped  away 
to  Laggan  and  telegraphed  for  Dr.  Brett  to  come  from 
Banff.  Then  to  division  headquarters,  "  How  much 
for  a  special  engine  from  Banff  to  Laggan  ?  "  The 
reply  was  in  terms  too  high  for  our  purse,  and  I 
arranged  for  a  hand-car  crew  to  bring  up  the  doctor. 
The  distance  is  thirty-six  miles  and  there  is  a  stiff 
grade  with  a  total  ascent  of  five  hundred  feet. 

Meanwhile  the  rest  of  the  party  on  the  glacier, 
seeing  me  disappear  about  three  o'clock  beyond  a 
swelling  mound  of  ice,  were  left  to  pass  the  tedious 
hours  in  lonely  contemplation.  On  a  hot  summer 
day  a  glacier  is  a  fairly  comfortable  place  abounding 
in  cool  breezes  and  bright  sunshine.  A  decided 
change,  however,  takes  place  immediately  after  the 
sun  disappears,  as  it  soon  did  here,  behind  Mt.  Vic- 
toria. Ice-needles  formed  on  the  pools,  the  genial 
breezes  ceased,  and  a  penetrating  draught  came 
down  from  the  higher  places.  The  long  hours 
rolled  by  and  still  no  sign  of  aid  appeared.  In 
imagination  they  recounted  the  possibility  of  its 
never  arriving,  thinking  that  I  might  have  fallen  into 
a  crevasse,  or  sprained  my  ankle  while  on  the 
moraine,  and  that  no  one  would  ever  think  of  com- 
ing to  them.  At  length  in  desperation  they  made  a 
plan  to  leave  the  glacier  by  the  shortest  way,  at 


1''' 


5' 
t, , 

,v 


I 


' 


I 


I 


Ml 


44 


Zbc  'JR0MC9  of  Cana^a 


whatever  risk  to  life  or  limb,  rather  than  die  of  cold 
on  this  cheerless  sea  of  ice,  but  before  such  plans 
were  carried  out  they  discovered,  with  a  field-glass, 
a  boat  leaving  the  far  end  of  Lake  Louise.  In  half 
an  hour  the  boat  had  crossed  the  lake,  and  then  for 
an  hour  or  so  no  further  sign  of  help  was  seen. 
Suddenly  four  moving  figures  appeared  like  black 
dots  in  the  distance  and  they  knew  that  a  rescue 
party  was  coming  at  last.  At  seven  o'clock,  or  more 
than  four  hours  after  the  accident,  our  injured  com- 
panion commenced  his  journey  to  the  chalet  in  a 
litter  hastily  constructed  and  which,  at  best,  only 
served  to  lift  him  a  little  above  the  ground.  William 
observed  his  woebegone  appearance  and  heard  his 
groans  with  concern,  but  with  true  Indian  lack  of 
tact,  frequently  during  the  painful  journey  enter- 
tained the  invalid  as  follows  :  "  You  think  you  die  ? 
Me  think  so  too." 

While  Frissell  was  regaming  health  and  strength 
we  made  several  expeditions  to  the  adjacent  valleys, 
and,  among  others,  one  of  them  proved  the  most  de- 
lightful that  1  have  ever  taken  in  this  region.  We 
as  yet  knew  nothing  of  the  mountains  east  and 
south  of  Lake  Louise.  Certain  glimpses  of  a  valley 
beyond  Mt.  Aberdeen  and  Mt.  Lefroy  had  been  caught 
in  our  various  climbs,  but  they  gave  only  imperfect 
ideas  of  the  geography  of  all  that  region.  To  push 
our  exploration  into  this  new  and  doubtless  attractive 
place  seemed  a  most  desirable  thing.  Our  plan  was  to 
explore  the   Lefroy  glacier  and  force  a  passage,  if 


I  ,. 


Bdcent  of  a  Snow  pass 


45 


possible,  over  a  snow  pass  eastwards,  where,  no 
doubt,  all  this  unknown  region  would  lie  before  us. 
Accordingly  one  day  near  the  first  of  August  our 
party  of  four  might  have  been  seen  traversing  in 
Alpine  fashion  the  ice-fields  near  Mt.  Lefroy.  This 
entire  valley,  which  is  more  than  seven  thousand 
feet  above  sea-level,  is  filled  with  glacier  ice  and  per- 
petual snow.  From  the  entire  absence  of  trees  or 
vegetation  of  any  kind  it  is  impossible  to  judge  dis- 
tance and  heights  of  mountains  in  this  place.  It  is  a 
veritable  canyon,  of  magnificent  though  desolate 
grandeur,  with  the  bare  limestone  slopes  of  Mt. 
Aberdeen  on  the  north,  and  on  the  other  side  the 
north  face  of  Mt.  Lefroy,  which  has  a  total  height  of 
nearly  four  thousand  feet  from  the  glacier.  At  the 
valley  end  there  stands  a  curious  pointed  mountain, 
shaped  like  a  bishop's  mitre,  and  on  either  side  of 
this  there  is  a  col,  or  snow  pass,  one  of  which  we 
hoped  to  ascend. 

As  we  were  marching  over  the  glacier,  which 
was  covered  with  snow  and  therefore  somewhat 
dciiigerous,  Warrington,  who  was  third  on  the  rope, 
suddenly  broke  through  the  frail  bridge  of  a  crevasse. 
"  I  could  hear,"  he  afterwards  told  us,  "the  noise  of 
snow  falling  under  my  feet  and  the  gurgling  of  water 
at  the  bottom  of  the  depths  over  which  I  was  sus- 
pended." We  pulled  him  out  of  this  dangerous 
place  without  anyone  else  getting  in,  and  reached 
the  foot  of  the  snow  passes  without  further  accident. 
The  one  on  our  left  seemed  easier  of  slope  than  the 


46 


TTbe  1?ocftiea  of  Canaba 


'1^ 


other.  It  was  very  soon  apparent  that  we  had  a 
considerable  amount  of  work  before  us.  Allen  led 
the  way  cutting  steps  in  the  snow,  for  the  slope  was 
very  steep  and  we  hcd  no  desire  to  slide  into  one  of 
the  great  crevasses  which  made  the  place  formid- 
able. We  crossed  some  of  these  treacherous 
caverns  by  means  of  snow  bridges,  but  others  we 
were  compelled  to  pass  around,  and  in  such  places 
had  inspiring  views  of  blue  grottos  hung  with 
dripping  icicles.  From  the  darkness  of  these  yawn- 
ing death-traps  came  the  sound  of  sub-glacial 
streams. 

After  three  hours  of  slow  and  tiring  work  we  had 
climbed  only  one  thousand  feet.  It  was  a  cloudy 
day  with  a  damp  and  cheerless  atmosphere,  and  at 
this  altitude  of  eight  thousand  feet  there  were  occa- 
sional showers  of  hail  and  snow.  Chilled  by  the 
long  exposure  and  the  necessary  slowness  of  our 
progress,  every  member  of  the  party  became  silent 
and  depressed.  It  seems  to  me  that  the  circulation 
of  the  blood  has  much  to  do  with  the  mental  state 
and  that  courage  depends  in  a  large  measure  on  the 
pulse.  The  panting  isoldier  will  face  a  cannon's 
mouth,  but  dreads  unseen  danger  when  chilled  by 
night  watching. 

To  judge  by  our  surroundings  alone,  we  might 
have  been  exploring  some  lonely  polar  land,  for  our 
entire  view  was  limited  by  high  mountains  covered 
with  glaciers  and  snow  and  altogether  barren  of 
vegetation.    At  such  times  you  wonder  why  you 


i:j 


3S>i0COPeri?  of  a  mew  IDallei? 


47 


i 


'%;' 


came.  Why  not  stay  at  home  and  be  comfortable  ? 
Every  climber  feels  such  temporary  repulses,  when 
the  game  is  not  worth  the  candle  and  he  decides 
once  for  all  to  give  up  mountain  climbing.  Like  the 
ancients  vowing  sacrifices  and  temples  to  the  gods 
in  the  thick  of  battle  or  on  the  point  of  shipwreck, 
which  vows  they  forgot  very  speedily  when  they 
arrived  at  safety,  the  mountaineer  forgets  his  re- 
solves under  the  genial  influence  of  hot  Scotch  and 
a  comfortable  camp.  These  Rockies  have  many  sur- 
prises for  the  explorer,  and  there  was  one  in  store 
for  us. 

We  sought  temporary  rest  on  an  outcropping 
ledge  and  tried  to  regain  some  strength  by  eating 
lunch.  The  summit  of  our  pass  now  seemed  only  a 
short  distance  above,  but  we  had  been  deceived  so 
many  times  on  this  interminable  slope  that  we  put 
no  faith  in  our  eyes.  Recommencing  our  climb  at 
a  quicker  pace,  for  the  slope  was  easier  and  we 
were  most  anxious  to  see  the  view  eastwards,  we 
were  soon  near  the  summit.  The  last  few  steps  to  a 
mountain  pass  are  attended  by  a  pleasurable  excite- 
ment equalled  only  by  the  conquest  of  a  new 
mountain.  The  curtain  is  about  to  be  raised,  as  it 
were,  on  a  new  scene  and  the  reward  of  many 
hours  of  climbing  comes  at  one  magical  revelation. 

Arrived  on  the  summit  of  our  pass,  8500  feet  above 
sea-level,  we  saw  a  new  group  of  mountains  iii  the 
distance,  while  a  most  beautiful  valley  lay  far  below 
us.    Throughout  a  broad  expanse  of  meadows  and 


48 


^be  'Rocf^iea  of  Cana^a 


open  country  many  streams  were  to  be  seen  winding 
through  this  valley,  clearly  traceable  to  their  vari- 
ous sources  in  glaciers,  springs,  and  melting  snow- 
drifts. With  all  its  diversity  of  features  spread  like  a 
map  before  our  eyes,  this  attractive  place  was  seen 
to  be  closely  invested  on  the  south  by  a  semicircle 
of  high  and  rugged  mountains,  rising  steeply  from  a 
crescent-shaped  glacier  at  their  united  bases.  The 
encircling  mountains  extending  then  to  the  left, 
hemmed  in  the  far  side  of  the  valley  in  an  irregular 
line  of  peaks,  to  terminate,  so  far  as  we  could  see,  in 
a  double-pointed  mountain  with  two  summits  about 
one  mile  apart.  The  strata  of  this  mountain  had 
been  fashioned  by  ages  of  exposure  into  innumerable 
forms  of  beauty,  like  imitations  of  minarets,  pinna- 
cler,  and  graceful  spires.  The  mountain  itself  resem- 
bled a  splendid  building,  with  nature  as  architect,  the 
frost  and  rain  for  sculptors.  Its  outlines  showed  a 
combination  of  gentle  slopes  and  vertical  ledges  like 
the  alternating  roofs  and  walls  of  a  cathedral.  On 
one  side  of  this  mountain,  where  nature  had  evi- 
dently striven  to  surp,.oS  all  other  efforts,  there  rose 
from  the  middle  slopes  a  number  of  slender  stone 
columns,  apparently  several  hundred  feet  high.  They 
were  strange  monuments  of  the  past  which  had  sur- 
vived earthquake  shocks  and  outlived  the  warring 
elements  while  nature  continued  her  work.  Com- 
pared with  these  columns,  the  pyramids  of  Egypi, 
the  palaces  of  Yucatan,  and  the  temples  of  India  are 
young,  even  in  their  antiquity. 


w 


Discovery  of  Paradise  Valley. 


I 


*  ♦ 


S)l0covcr^  of  a  flew  Dallci? 


49 


At  the  time  of  our  arrival  on  the  summit,  a  sudden 
change  took  place  in  the  weather.  The  wind  came 
from  another  quarter,  and  the  monotonous  covering 
of  grey  clouds  began  to  disclose  blue  sky  in  many 
places.  The  afternoon  sun  poured  shafts  of  light 
through  the  moving  clouds,  and  awakened  bright 
colours  over  forests,  meadows,  and  streams. 

This  beautiful  scene  opened  before  us  so  suddenly 
that  for  a  time  the  cliffs  echoed  to  our  exclamations 
of  pleasure,  while  those  who  had  recently  been  most 
depressed  in  spirit  were  now  most  vehement  in  ex- 
pressions of  delight.  A  short  time  before  no  one 
could  be  found  to  assume  the  responsibility  of  such  a 
foolhardy  trip,  but  now  each  member  of  our  party 
had  been  the  proposer  of  this  glorious  excursion.  We 
spent  a  half-hour  on  the  pass,  and  divided  our  work 
so  that  while  one  took  photographs  of  the  scene, 
another  took  angles  of  prominent  points  for  our  map, 
and  the  rest  built  a  cairn  to  celebrate  our  ascent  of 
the  pass. 

It  was  decided,  by  each  one  no  doubt  to  himself, 
but  at  any  rate  by  the  party  unanimously,  to  explore 
this  new  valley  whatever  should  be  the  result. 
Though  it  was  late  in  the  afternoon  and  there  was 
small  chance  of  reaching  the  chalet  that  night,  the 
desolate  valley  behind  repelled,  while  the  new  one 
seemed  to  bid  us  enter. 

Fortunately,  a  long  snow  slope  led  far  into  the 
valley  from  the  pass.  This  we  prepared  to  descend 
by  glissading,  all  roped  together,  because  one  or  two 


*i 


\:.    I 


!! 


\ 


50 


^be  'RocMee  of  Cana^a 


<.  u. 


of  our  party  were  undergoing  their  first  Alpine  ex- 
periences. The  slope  was  pretty  steep,  and  we  were 
just  well  under  way  in  our  descent,  when  someone 
lost  his  footing  and  commenced  to  slide  at  such  speed 
that  the  end  man  was  jerked  violently  by  the  rope, 
and  lost  his  ice-axe  as  he  fell  headlong.  With  con- 
sternation very  evident  on  their  faces,  our  two  com- 
rades came  rolling  and  sliding  downwards,  head  first, 
foot  first,  sometimes  one  leading,  and  sometimes  the 
other.  Their  momentum  was  too  much  for  the  rest 
of  us  and,  even  with  our  ice-axes  well  set  in  the  soft 
snow,  we  all  slid  some  distance  in  a  bunch.  Owing 
to  the  complicated  figures  executed  in  our  descent,  it 
required  several  minutes  to  unwind  the  tangled  ropes 
in  which  we  were  caught.  Then  a  committee  of 
one  was  appointed  to  go  back  and  gather  the  scat- 
tered hats,  ice-axes,  and  such  other  personal  effects  as 
could  be  found. 

In  a  short  time  we  had  descended  fifteen  hundred 
feet  to  the  valley  bottom.  We  had  thus  in  a  few 
moments  exchanged  the  cold  and  dreary  upper  re- 
gions for  the  genial  warmth  of  summer.  Humboldt 
says  :  "In  the  physical  as  in  the  moral  world,  the  con- 
trast of  effects,  the  comparison  of  what  is  powerful 
and  menacing  with  what  is  soft  and  peaceful,  is  a 
'  never-failing  source  of  our  pleasures  and  our  emo- 
tions." By  our  rapid  change  of  altitude  we  had  passed 
through  all  gradations  of  climate  from  polar  to  tem- 
perate, and  now  found  ourselves  surrounded  by 
meadows  of  rich  grass,  gay  with  the  wild  fiowers  of 


exploration  of  a  Belidbtful  'Reoion       51 


midsummer,  and  open  groves  where  squirrels  were 
chattering,  and  the  wild  conies  and  other  rodents 
were  staring  at  us  as  we  passed  along.  There  were 
not  a  few  mosquitoes  in  evidence  also. 

We  followed  a  small  stream  and  saw  it  finally 
grow  into  a  river.  Pursuing  our  way  with  rapid 
steps,  like  adventurers  in  nature's  fairyland,  where 
every  moment  reveals  new  wonders,  we  came  at 
length  to  an  opening  in  the  forest,  where  the  falling 
stream  dashed  among  great  stones  strewn  in  wild 
disorder.  They  were  colossal  fragments  of  sandstone 
hewn  by  nature  into  angular  blocks  and  poised  one 
upon  another  as  though  they  were  ready  to  fall  from 
their  insecure  positions.  After  several  hours  of  walk- 
ing, the  stream  became  a  large,  muddy  torrent  which 
swung  from  right  to  left  every  hundred  yards  or  so, 
and  was  now  too  wide  and  deep  to  cross. 

The  tremendous  cliffs  of  Mt.  Temple,  one  of  the 
highest  of  the  Canadian  Rockies,  guard  the  east  side 
of  this  valley.  For  the  space  of  three  miles  its  preci- 
pices present  an  uninterrupted  wall  of  rock,  four 
thousand  feet  from  base  to  top  and  a  total  height  of 
five  thousand  feet  from  the  valley.  Henderson  and 
I  led  the  way,  and  at  length  lost  sight  of  the  others, 
who  preferred  a  slower  pace  after  such  unusual  exer- 
tions. In  the  early  evening  we  came  to  a  swampy 
place,  beyond  which  we  recognised  the  broad  open- 
ing of  the  Bow  valley.  Here  we  waited  some  time 
for  our  friends,  who  were  a  long  way  behind,  and 
then  at  length  wrote  a  note  and  fastened  it  to  a  pole 


li 


52 


TTbe  'KocMee  of  Cana^a 


I , 


in  a  conspicuous  place.  It  read  :  **  We  are  going  to 
climb  the  ridge  to  the  north  and  try  to  mal<e  the 
chalet  to-night.  Advise  you  to  follow  us."  On  the 
top  of  the  pole  we  cut  a  slit  and  pointed  a  splinter  of 
wood  in  the  exact  direction  we  were  to  take. 

Having  accomplished  these  duties  in  the  best 
manner  possible  and  in  spite  of  innumerable  swarms 
of  mosquitoes  from  the  swamp,  we  walked  at  our 
best  speed,  not  relishing  the  prospect  of  a  cheerless 
bivouac  overnight  after  our  long  fast.  Encountering 
the  usual  obstacles  of  fallen  timber,  we  reached  Lake 
Louise,  by  good  fortune,  at  eight  o'clock.  After 
shouting  in  vain  for  someone  to  send  over  a  boat, 
we  forded  the  stream  and  entered  the  chalet,  where 
a  sumptuous  repast  was  prepared  forthwith  and  to 
which  we  did  justice  after  our  walk  of  twelve  hours' 
duration. 

Our  friends  did  not  appear  till  morning.  It  seems 
that  they  discovered  our  note,  but  decided  not  to 
take  our  route  as  they  thought  it  safer  to  follow  the 
stream  to  the  Bow.  This,  however,  proved  much 
farther  than  it  appeared,  and  they  had  not  proceeded 
far  before  they  became  entangled  in  a  large  area  of 
fallen  timber,  where  they  were  soon  overtaken  by 
night  and  compelled  to  give  up  all  hope  of  reaching 
Lake  Louise  till  morning.  In  the  dark  forest  they  lit 
a  small  fire,  and  were  at  first  tormented  by  mosqui- 
toes, and  later  by  the  chill  of  advancing  night,  so 
that  sleep  was  impossible.  The  utter  weariness  of 
exhaustion,  embittered  by  hunger  and  sleeplessness, 


InMan  Sarcasm 


53 


amid  clouds  of  voracious  mosquitoes,  was  only  off- 
set by  the  contents  of  a  flask,  with  which  they 
endeavoured  to  revive  their  drooping  spirits  and  nour- 
ish the  feeble  spark  of  life  till  dawn.  Fortunately 
the  nights  in  this  latitude  are  short,  and  at  four 
o'clock  they  continued  their  way  to  the  Bow  River, 
which  they  then  followed  to  Laggan. 

A  week  later,  a  little  column  of  smoke  was  seen 
rising  from  the  woods  toward  the  east,  and  from  Lag- 
gan it  was  reported  that  a  large  area  of  the  forest  was 
on  fire.  Some  pointed  the  finger  of  scorn  at  us  and 
held  our  party  responsible.  William  Twin,  our 
Indian  friend,  said,  "  Me  think  two  white  men  light 
him  fire,"  to  which  we  replied  that  this  was  impos- 
sible as  the  fire  had  broken  out  nearly  a  week  after 
our  visit.  William  then  met  our  arguments  with 
this  sarcastic  fling:  "  Oh  no,  white  man  no  light 
fire.    Me  think  sun  light  him." 

A  gang  of  section  men  with  axes  and  water- 
buckets  was  immediately  despatched  from  Laggan 
to  fight  the  fire,  which,  thanks  to  the  weather,  did 
not  prove  very  serious  and  was  extinguished  in  two 
days. 


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CHAPTER  IV 

AN  UPLAND  MEADOW  — VIEW  OF  MT.  TEMPLE  — WE 
PLACE  OUR  CAMP  IN  PARADISE  VALLEY  — DIFFICULTIES 
OF  TRAVERSING  THE  PATHLESS  FOREST  — A  MARVELLOUS 
SOMERSAULT  — THE  UPPER  END  OF  PARADISE  VALLEY  — 
DISCORDANT  FLOWER  COLOURS  —  THE  FIREWEED  — THE 
SPRUCE  AND  BALSAM  — THE  BLACK  PINE  AND  WHITE- 
BARKED  PINE  — THE  LYALL'S  LARCH  — ITS  ENDURANCE  OF 
COLD  AND  STORMS  — THE  MARMOT  AND  PICA  —  THE 
VALLEY  IN  WINTER 

THE  beautiful  place  which  had  been  discovered 
in  such  a  delightful  way  we  called  Paradise 
Valley.  Our  route  will  never  be  popular  ex- 
cept with  mountaineers,  and  comparatively  few  will 
see  this  valley  from  the  Mitre  col.  The  lower  end 
of  Paradise  Valley  can  be  seen  to  better  advantage 
from  an  elevated  place  called  The  Saddle,  a  part  of 
Fairview  Mountain,  east  of  Lake  Louise.  An  excel- 
lent trail  has  been  made  and  you  may  now  ride  there 
on  the  back  of  an  Indian  pony  in  an  hour.  The 
Saddle  is  an  upland  meadow  between  a  craggy  ele- 
vation on  one  side  and  the  great  conical  mass  of 
Fairview  Mountain  to  the  north.  This  alp,  beautified 
by  waving  grass  and  bright  flowers,  alternating  with 
scattered  groves  of  Lyall's  larch,  is  so  elevated  that 

84 


Mount  Temple  from  the  Saddle. 


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Bn  lOpland  flDeabow 


55 


it  commands  an  inspiring  view  of  the  Bow  valley 
and  of  Mt.  Temple.  The  latter  is  a  splendid  mount- 
ain (the  highest  seen  from  the  Canadian  Pacific 
Road),  and  is  surpassed  only  by  the  giant  Mt.  As- 
siniboine  to  the  south,  and  by  those  great  snow 
mountains,  Forbes  and  Lyell,  near  the  source  of  the 
Saskatchewan. 

The  meadow  dips  gently  southwards,  suddenly 
breaks  up  into  rocky  crags,  and  then  drops  abruptly 
fifteen  hundred  feet  to  the  bottom  of  Paradise  Valley, 
where  the  stream  resembles  a  narrow  band  of  silver, 
winding  in  sinuous  course  through  the  forests. 
Standing  on  one  of  these  flat-topped  ledges,  where  a 
stone  from  the  hand  drops  one  hundred  feet  before 
touching  the  cliff,  you  may  enjoy  one  of  the  most 
inspiring  views  in  the  Rockies  of  Canada.  A  small, 
blue  lake  rests  against  the  base  of  Mt.  Temple,  some- 
what elevated  above  the  valley,  hemmed  in  by  forests, 
and  sparkling  with  diamonds  when  the  sun  is  south. 
It  is  more  than  five  thousand  feet  from  the  water  of 
this  lonely  pool  to  the  top  of  Mt.  Temple.  A  glacier, 
free  of  all  dirt-bands  and  stones,  for  there  are  no 
litTs  above  to  scatter  rock-falls  upon  it,  crowns  the 
mountain  summit  and,  at  intervals,  makes  ice  ava- 
lanches when  its  hanging  edge  breaks  away.  These 
avalanches  are  infrequent,  but  the  roar  of  ice  in  its 
fall  of  several  thousand  feet  may  be  heard  at  Laggan, 
six  miles  distant. 

One  route  to  Paradise  Valley  lies  over  this  Saddle, 
but  a  far  shorter  way  is  through  the  forests  from  Lake 


! 


^ 


56 


Wk  1{ocMe0  of  Canada 


Louise  to  the  mouth  of  the  other  valley,  which  is 
only  three  miles  distant  and  on  about  the  same  level. 
We  decided  to  make  a  camping  expedition  into  this 
region  and  explore  it  at  leisure,  so  we  procured  three 
or  four  horses  at  the  chalet  and  made  ready  some  pro- 
visions and  blankets.  It  would  not  have  required  a 
very  large  book  to  contain  all  we  knew  about  packing 
horses  at  that  time.  They  say  the  Bedouins  pack 
their  camels  in  a  singular  manner  by  winding  thongs 
round  the  animals'  bodies,  packs  and  all,  and  at  their 
journeys'  end  simply  cut  the  fastenings,  whereupon 
everything  comes  loose.  Our  horses  must  have  been 
packed  in  a  similar  manner,  but  at  all  events  we  knew 
absolutely  nothing  about  the  "  diamond  hitch." 

Allen  and  Henderson  said  they  would  go  ahead 
and  get  a  camp  settled  near  the  end  .of  Paradise  Val- 
ley. To  help  drive  the  horses,  two  Indian  boys  were 
engaged,  but  on  the  second  day,  after  a  hearty  break- 
fast, they  deserted.  Frissell  and  1  came  along  in  two 
days  with  another  horse  and  some  auxiliary  supplies. 
1  shall  never  forget  that  night  when  we  were  search- 
ing for  the  camp.  We  had  been  leading  the  horse, 
an  obstinate  old  brute,  more  than  six  hours  through 
the  pathless  forest,  and  had  arrived  at  length  not  far 
from  the  valley  end,  where,  however,  there  was  no 
sign  of  a  camp.  A  stormy  night  was  coming  on  and 
a  fine  drizzle  commenced  to  wet  the  underbrush. 
We  untied  the  rifle  and  fired  several  shots  as  a  signal 
of  distress.  Hollow  echoes  from  the  forest  gloom 
and  the  long-drawn  repetitions  farther  and  farther 


j 


^rapersino  tbe  patblese  forest 


57 


away  mocked  our  despair.  The  poor  old  cayuse 
was  a  picture  of  silent  misery  with  his  head  hanging 
down,  the  rain  dripping  in  streamlets  from  ears  and 
mane,  and  his  body  steaming  with  moisture.  We 
prepared  to  make  a  night  of  it  in  the  wet  forest  with 
no  tent  to  protect  us,  no  axe  to  cut  fire-wood,  and 
little  chance  of  cooking  anything,  though  there  were 
some  cold  canned  provisions  somewhere  on  the 
horse  unless  they  had  fallen  out  of  his  packs.  I  put 
on  a  "slicker"  and  made  a  last  search  for  the  camp 
in  a  rapid  excursion  up  the  valley.  Some  large 
whitish  stones  loomed  through  the  darkness  and 
several  times  deceived  me  into  the  idea  that  they 
were  our  tent.  At  length  1  found  the  place  on  the 
farther  side  of  a  stream  and  gave  a  shout.  There 
was  no  fire  before  the  camp,  which  made  it  so  diffi- 
cult to  find.  In  another  hour  the  horse  had  been 
brought  up  and  a  fire  made,  large  enough  to  dry  our 
clothes  and  cook  a  fine  dinner.  The  next  day  was 
spent  in  cutting  fire-wood  and  boughs  for  beds,  to 
say  nothing  of  making  camp  generally  comfortable. 
Several  trips  were  made  afterwards  between  the 
lake  and  camp  to  replenish  our  stock  of  blankets  and 
provisions.  As  might  be  supposed  where  the  ex- 
plorers were  inexperienced  and  the  country  unusually 
rough,  some  remarkable  things  happened  on  these 
journeys.  There  was  a  spot  about  two  miles  within 
the  valley  entrance  that  always  put  our  patience  to 
a  se  /ere  test.  On  one  side  of  the  stream  was  a  place 
made  fairly  impassable  by  fallen  trees  crossed  two  or 


fifl 


58 


Zhc  IRocMcB  ot  Cana5a 


three  deep.  The  other  bank,  which  we  were  com- 
pelled to  take,  was  covered  by  an  unusually  dense 
forest,  where  a  tangled  underbrush  and  fallen  timber 
partially  concealed  the  pitfalls  of  a  moss-covered 
rock-slide.  There  were  deep  holes  between  the 
stones,  and  in  many  places  underground  streams, 
which  we  could  hear  gurgling  beneath  our  feet,  had 
washed  out  the  soil.  To  lead  a  horse  through  this 
place  required  considerable  skill  and  courage.  With- 
out guidance  the  poor  beast  would  stand  motionless, 
but  to  choose  a  path  while  leading  him  was  a  pre- 
carious occupation,  for  the  very  first  hole  was  enough 
to  frighten  the  animal  so  that,  instead  of  going  more 
carefully,  he  usually  commenced  a  wild  rush  till  he 
fell.  In  these  frantic  struggles  we  were  occasionally 
trampled  on,  while  the  packs  were  smashed  against 
the  trunks  of  trees  or  torn  off  altogether. 

Our  usual  manner  of  procedure  was  to  have  one 
of  our  party  ahead  to  select  rapidly  open  places  in 
the  forest,  while  about  twenty-five  yards  behind 
came  another  whose  duty  it  was  to  find  the  path- 
finder, and  if  possible  improve  on  his  route.  Then 
came  the  horse  led  by  a  third,  while  the  rear  of  our 
little  procession  was  brought  up  by  two  others 
charged  with  the  responsibility  of  picking  up  what- 
ever articles  fell  out  of  the  packs. 

The  following  incident,  which  is  related  merely 
for  the  sake  of  historical  accuracy  and  to  show  the 
possibilities  of  the  country,  is  offered  with  no  fond 
hope  whatsoever  that  anyone  will  credit  the  tale. 


H  nDarveUou0  Somereault 


59 


It  happened  that  we  were  pursuing  our  way  through 
the  woods  in  our  usual  manner,  when  the  leader 
came  to  a  tree  which  leaned  over  the  trail  at  an 
angle.  It  was  small  enough  to  be  limber,  and  large 
enough  to  be  strong.  Moreover,  it  was  too  low  for 
the  horse  to  pass  under,  and  too  high  for  him  to  jump 
over.  Approaching  the  slanting  tree,  the  leader  saw 
the  pack-horse  rear  in  the  air  and  prepare  for  a  jump. 
He  thought  it  best  to  get  out  of  the  way,  but  in  his 
haste  stumbled  and  fell  headlong  into  a  bush. 
Meanwhile  the  horse,  a  stupid  old  beast,  prepared 
for  the  effort  of  his  life,  and  with  a  tremendous 
spring  jumped  high  in  air,  but  unfortunately  his  fore- 
feet caught  in  the  tree,  which  swung  forward  a  little 
with  his  weight,  and  then  returning  like  a  spring, 
turned  the  animal  over  in  mid-air.  The  poor  beast 
fell  on  his  back  about  five  yards  farther  on,  and  re- 
mained motionless  as  death,  with  his  four  legs  point- 
ing towards  the  sky.  But  this  was  not  all,  for  the 
tree  swung  back  violently  and  caught  one  of  our 
party  on  the  nose,  fortunately  at  the  end  of  its 
swing,  but  with  sufficient  force  to  knock  him  down. 
When  our  two  friends  had  recovered,  we  turned  our 
attention  to  the  horse,  which  had  not  yet  moved. 
"He  is  dead,"  cried  a  voice.  We  rolled  him  over 
nevertheless,  whereupon  he  got  up  and  seemed 
none  the  worse  for  his  experience  except  for  a  more 
than  usual  stupidity. 

Though  our  camp  life  was  not  so  comfortable  as 
further  experience  has  shown  to  be  possible  in  these 


li 


! 


6o 


Vbe  KocMee  ot  Canada 


mountains,  still  there  was  the  enthusiasm  of  early 
exploits  and  a  certain  romantic  atmosphere  to  all  we 
saw  and  did  that  perhaps  lessens  with  riper  experi- 
ence. In  the  first  place  our  surroundings  would 
have  appealed  to  any  lover  of  nature.  The  upper 
part  of  this  valley  is  hemmed  in  by  an  encircling  line 
of  mountains,  and  abruptly  terminated  to  the  south 
by  a  bare  precipice  which  rises  in  a  wedge-shaped 
peak  called  by  us  "  Hungabee,"  or  the  chieftain. 
Falling  away  into  a  moderate  depression,  the  cliffs 
rise  again  on  the  right  into  the  lofty  summit  of  Mt. 
Lefroy.  A  curious  glacier,  shaped  like  a  horseshoe, 
lies  at  the  base  of  this  semicircle  of  mountains. 
The  glacier  ends  in  a  high  moraine  ridge,  and  below 
this  for  a  mile  or  more  the  valley  abounds  in  de- 
lightful meadows  and  open  groves,  interrupted  at 
frequent  intervals  by  level  tracts,  pools  of  water,  and 
quiet  rivulets,  or,  where  the  country  is  more  broken, 
by  noisy  glacial  streams.  The  meadows  were  at  the 
height  of  summer  glory  and  bright  with  the  scarlet 
painted-cup  and  red-purple  epilobiums  mingled  in  a 
wild  clash  of  colours. 

There  are  several  species  of  epilobium  in  the 
mountains,  of  which  the  commonest  is  a  tall  plant 
with  a  long  raceme  of  flowers.  It  is  called  the  fire- 
weed,  for  it  appears  most  abundantly  in  the  desolate 
wastes  of  burnt  timber  lands,  where  its  bright  flowers 
enliven  the  black  and  grey  monotony  of  charred 
trees.  In  late  summer  it  sends  forth  a  multitude  of 
cottony  seeds,  which  are  borne  away  through  the 


Camp  in  Paradise  VilLy. 


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TTbe  'lOpper  En^  of  paraMee  IDallei?      6i 

air  for  miles,  sometimes  over  high  mountain  ridges, 
to  other  valleys.  There  is  a  smaller  and  more 
beautiful  plant  of  the  same  genus,  which  is  only  a 
few  inches  high  and  bears  a  few  conspicuous  flow- 
ers, magenta-purple  coloured,  that  harmonise  with 
nothing  except  perhaps  the  green  of  its  own  pointed 
leaves.  It  prefers  the  pebble-lined  borders  of  mount- 
ain streams,  or  the  dry  bed  of  some  old  channel  where 
a  little  gravel  offers  a  foothold  between  water-worn 
stones,  to  the  rich  soil  and  verdure  of  meadows. 
This  flower,  like  Grieg's  music,  recalls  mountain 
pastures,  and  suggests  in  its  discordant  beauty  of 
colour  tones  his  wild,  bitter-sweet  harmonies. 

The  altitude  of  all  the  upper  pait  of  Paradise  Val- 
ley is  approximately  seven  thousand  feet  above  sea- 
level,  which,  in  this  part  of  the  Canadian  Rockies,  is 
the  normal  tree-line.  The  terms  tree-line  and  snow- 
line are  inexact,  and  vary  greatly  according  to  situa- 
tion. In  secluded  valleys  that  face  north,  the  upper 
limit  of  tree  growth  is  sometimes  below  seven 
thousand  feet.  But  where  the  valleys  are  broad  and 
sun-exposed,  spruces  and  larches  grow  as  high  as 
seventy-five  hundred  or  even  seventy-six  hundred 
feet  above  sea-level. 

All  the  valleys  of  these  mountains  are  covered 
with  heavy  coniferous  forests.  There  is  a  certain 
dignity  in  these  tall,  straight  trees,  which  seems  suit- 
able to  the  cold  northern  wilderness,  though  the 
effect  is  monotonous  as  compared  with  the  variety 
of  tree  form^  f-^ .  iu  in  the  deciduous  forests  of  the 


; 


62 


Zbc  ItocMed  of  Cana^a 


Appalachians,  the  Green,  and  the  White  mountains. 
Only  five  kinds  of  trees  compose  by  far  the  greater 
part  of  the  forests  in  the  summit  range  of  the  Cana- 
dian Rockies. 

The  white  spruce  (Picea  Engelmannii)  is  found 
everywhere  throughout  the  mountains  from  the  low- 
est altitudes  to  the  highest  limits  of  tree  growth.  It 
is  from  forty  to  one  hundred  feet  in  height  and  from 
one  to  three  feet  or  more  in  diameter.  In  heavy  for- 
ests the  outline  of  this  tree  is  very  narrow,  as  the 
higher  branches,  especially,  project  but  a  little  way 
from  the  tapering  stem.  These  lateral  branches  show 
a  tendency  to  slope  downwards,  possibly  the  better 
to  shed  the  burden  of  winter  snow.  In  dark  forests 
the  lower  branches  die  away  and  are  often  hung 
with  black  and  gray  beard-lichens.  In  places  where 
the  forests  are  somewhat  open  and  protected  from 
snow-slides,  the  spruce  has  live  branches  from  the 
ground  to  the  terminal  bud,  and  the  tree  then  as- 
sumes the  form  of  a  symmetrical  spire.  1  counted 
four  hundred  rings  in  an  old  spruce  stump  near  Lake 
Louise.  This  tree  was  less  than  three  feet  in  dia- 
meter, but  it  sometimes  exceeds  four  feet,  and  by  the 
same  ratio  of  growth  such  trees  should  be  between 
five  hundred  and  six  hundred  years  old. 

The  balsam  spruce  {Abies  subalpind)  has  about  the 
same  range  as  the  white  spruce,  but  is  less  common. 
At  a  distance  it  is  hardly  to  be  distinguished  from 
the  spruce,  but  the  bark  on  branches  and  young 
trees  is  raised  in  blisters  which  contain  a  drop  or  two 


JLbe  Spruce  an^  Sal0am 


63 


of  balsam.  This  balsam  exudes  from  the  bark  wher- 
ever it  is  bruised.  At  first  it  is  a  very  clear  liquid, 
regarded  by  old  trappers  and  woodsmen  as  a  certain 
cure,  when  brewed  with  hot  water,  for  colds  and 
throat  trouble.  On  exposure  to  air  it  slowly  hardens 
into  a  brittle  resin,  which  the  woodsman  melts  into 
pitch  to  seal  boxes  or  mend  leaky  canoes.  The 
camper-out  makes  his  bed  from  balsam  boughs,  as 
they  are  more  springy  and  less  rigid  than  those  of 
the  spruce.  The  blunt  and  soft  leaves  of  the  balsam 
are  likewise  much  pleasanter  to  the  touch  than  the 
sharp  spruce  needles. 

There  are  two  kinds  of  pine— the  black  pine 
(JPinus  Murrayana),  a  small  and  slender  tree  which 
cannot  endure  very  high  altitudes,  and  the  white- 
barked  pine  (JPinus  albicaulis),  which  is  found  on 
rocky  slopes  at  greater  heights.  The  black  pine  ex- 
tends over  considerable  areas,  and  alternates  with 
spruce  when  fires  destroy  one  or  the  other  forest. 
The  white-barked  pine  has  an  open  branching  trunk 
and  is  rather  scarce  in  these  mountains. 

The  most  interesting  and  by  far  the  most  beauti- 
ful conifer  is  Lyall's  larch  (Larix  Lyallii).  It  resem- 
bles the  eastern  tamarack,  but  is  restricted  to  the 
summit  range  of  the  Rockies,  and  its  southern  limits, 
probably  in  Montana,  have  not  yet  been  determined. 
1  have  never  seen  the  larch  in  any  of  the  Saskatche- 
wan or  Athabasca  valleys,  and  the  farthest  north  that 
I  have  observed  it  was  on  the  slopes  of  Mt.  Hector, 
eleven  miles  from  Laggan.    It  rarely  lives  at  altitudes 


ll 


1  ; 


64 


Zbc  VoclAcB  of  (Canaba 


below  six  thousand  feet  above  sea-level.  The  ex- 
treme range  of  altitude  of  this  tree  might  be  safely 
placed  between  5600  and  7600  feet.  Lyall's  larch  is 
very  beautiful,  having  a  rough,  grey  bark,  irregular 
and  heavy  branches,  and  a  foliage  of  soft  needles 
arranged  in  tufts  like  green  brushes.  Its  appearance 
among  the  spruces  as  you  ascend  is  a  certain  indica- 
tion that  you  are  approaching  tree-line,  where  it 
forms  scattered  groves  on  all  the  higher  ridges  and 
meadowy  uplands.  Its  growth  must  be  extremely 
slow,  as  1  have  counted  thirty  rings  in  a  branch  only 
three-fourths  of  an  inch  in  diameter.  The  wood  is 
hard  and  brittle,  and  after  a  heavy  snowfall  the 
branches  often  strew  the  ground  in  a  painful  ruin. 
Thus  the  tree  has  an  irregular  and  gnarled  appear- 
ance as  a  result  of  its  ceaseless  battle  with  snow- 
storms and  gales.  Probably  no  other  tree  in  the 
world  endures  such  stress  of  weather.  Not  till  June 
or  July  does  the  snow  entirely  disappear  from  the 
ground  in  its  usual  habitat,  and  if  the  winter  has 
been  unusually  severe  the  drifts  may  remain  all  sum- 
mer. Its  tender  buds  burst  in  June  and  the  needles 
are  fully  developed  in  early  July,  but  they  are  fre- 
quently covered  with  ice  or  snow  during  the  summer, 
and  in  fact  I  have  seen  them  covered  with  light 
snow  in  a  freezing  atmosphere  for  nearly  three  suc- 
cessive weeks  in  July  and  August.  Then,  no  matter 
how  hot  the  summer  has  been,  the  snow  begins  to 
fly  again  in  September  at  these  high  altitudes,  so 
that  the  larch  has  an  active  growing  period  of  only 


TTbe  %^alVB  Xarcb 


65 


two  or  three  months  in  the  year.  Nevertheless  their 
trunks  are  frequently  more  than  two  feet  in  diameter, 
which  seems  to  indicate  that  they  attain  a  very  great 
age  in  spite  of  the  vicissitudes  of  climate.  Those 
larches  that  grow  at  the  highest  altitudes  have  a 
curious  development  not  found  on  trees  a  few  hun- 
dred feet  lower.  The  tufts  of  needles  spring  from  a 
hollow  woody  sheath,  which  is  sometimes  more  than 
an  inch  long  on  the  high-altitude  trees,  while  else- 
where this  development  is  not  present. 

In  October  the  larch  needles  fade,  and  during 
autumn  mark  a  band  of  pale  yellow  on  the  mount- 
ains. The  Lyall's  larch  is  a  constant  source  of  de- 
light to  the  mountaineer,  and  adds  much  beauty  to 
those  higher  valleys  and  slopes  where  the  deep  for- 
ests end  and  the  perpetual  snows  first  appear.  Its 
rough  bark  and  crooked  branches,  adorned  with  a 
scanty  foliage,  make  a  light  shade  and  show  the 
blue  sky  beyond.  In  such  places,  contrasted  with 
the  cliffs  and  snow  fields  of  the  mountains,  it  lends  a 
charm  to  their  grandeur. 

The  Douglas  fir  {Pseudotsuga  Douglasii)  is  the 
largest  conifer  of  the  eastern  or  summit  range,  but  is 
only  found  on  the  foothills  east  of  the  mountains  or 
in  valleys  which  are  less  than  five  thousand  feet 
above  tide.  Here  it  is  found  in  company  with  the 
aspen  poplar  (Populus  tremuloides),  and  the  cotton- 
wood  {P.  balsamifera),  which  when  well  seasoned 
makes  the  finest  camp-fire  possible  and  gives  out  no 
smoke  or  sparks  whatsoever. 


I 


! 


66 


the  ItocMes  of  Ca^a^a 


There  was  not  much  game  around  our  camp  in 
Paradise  Valley,  though  we  saw  tracks  of  mountain 
goats  while  on  our  various  excursions.  There  were, 
however,  numerous  small  animals,  one  of  which,  a 
kind  of  rat  with  a  bushy  tail,  tried  to  run  off  with 
various  metal  articles  and  did  considerable  damage 
during  our  absence  from  camp  by  gnawing  our  cam- 
era cases  and  leather  straps.  We  frequently  saw 
and  heard  the  great  hoary  marmot,  or  whistling 
badger,  which  always  remains  at  a  safe  distance,  but 
startles  the  solitary  wanderer  by  its  sudden  and  ex- 
ceedingly shrill  whistle.  Porcupines  also  lived  in 
the  open  woods,  one  of  which  we  killed  and  ate 
when  we  were  hard  up  for  provisions.  They  are 
hardly  eatable,  though  the  Indians  regard  them 
highly  as  an  article  of  food.  A  most  interesting 
little  rodent  is  one  that,  at  first,  we  called  the 
seven-thousand-foot  rat,  because  he  invariably  puts 
in  an  appearance  at  this  altitude.  This  is  the  pica,  or 
tailless  hare,  a  squirrel-like  animal,  which  infests  dry 
meadows  and  the  tumbled  masses  of  rocks  where 
slides  have  come  down  from  the  mountains.  They 
have  sufficient  curiosity  to  make  them  narrowly 
watch  your  approach,  till  at  length,  overcome  by 
fear,  they  dart  away  among  the  stones.  The  pica's 
only  music  is  a  dismal  squeak,  but  they  are  so  char- 
acteristic of  upland  parks  and  lonely  though  beautiful 
valleys,  that  the  mountain  climber  comes  to  associate 
them  with  some  of  his  finest  experiences  and  so  to 
love  them. 


Jl\)c  IDallet  In  MInter 


67 


Our  chief  adventures  in  Paradise  Valley  were  the 
successful  ascent  of  two  unclimbed  peaks,  Mt.  Aber- 
deen and  Mt.  Temple,  an  account  of  which  will  be 
given  elsewhere.  At  the  end  of  summer  we  had 
pretty  well  explored  about  fifty  square  miles  around 
Lake  Louise  and  were  enabled  to  make  a  map  of  this 
beautiful  region. 

One  by  one  the  members  of  our  party  were  com- 
pelled to  bid  farewell  to  the  glories  of  the  Rockies. 
I  remained  later  to  finish  some  details  of  survey 
work,  and  early  in  October  made  a  final  expedition 
with  Mr.  Astley  to  bring  back  our  tent  from  Paradise 
Valley.  A  light  snow  covered  the  ground  in  pro- 
tected places,  and  the  large  stream  of  Paradise  Valley 
had  fallen  so  much  that  its  rocky  bed  proved  the 
safest  route  for  our  pack-horse.  On  our  way  we  saw 
a  fine  herd  of  mountain  goats,  a  species  of  antelope 
like  the  chamois  of  Switzerland. 

Our  camp  was  buried  in  snow,  the  ridge-pole  of 
the  tent  broken  with  the  heavy  burden,  and  every- 
thing so  much  changed  in  appearance  that  we  had 
trouble  at  first  in  finding  the  place.  The  murky  air 
was  filled  with  falling  snow  as  we  rolled  up  the 
frozen  canvas  and  blankets,  while  the  mountains, 
half  concealed  by  the  approaching  storm,  showed 
vague  outlines,  and  from  the  thickening  gloom  came 
the  indefinite  roar  of  distant  snow-slides. 

We  reached  the  lower  end  of  the  valley  by  night- 
fall, where  in  this  altitude  a  fine  rain  was  sifting 
through  the  spruce  needles,  and  here  we  made  camp 


68 


ITbe  ItocMee  ot  Cana^a 


in  a  dense  forest.  A  crackling  camp-fire,  built  of 
great  logs,  drove  away  the  chill  and  dampness  of  a 
rainy  night.  The  tent,  our  clothes,  and  the  mossy 
ground  were  soon  steaming,  while  the  glare  of  our 
fire  gave  a  cheerful  light  to  the  dark  forest.  Snow 
was  falling  in  the  morning,  and  squalls  were  sweep- 
ing through  the  valley  and  across  the  flanks  of  Mt. 
Temple,  but  three  hours'  travel  through  the  cold 
swamps  and  snow-covered  underbrush  brought  us 
to  the  chalet. 

A  few  days  later  I  climbed  to  Lake  Agnes  to  hunt 
the  mountain  goats  which  frequent  the  place.  The 
lake  was  nearly  covered  with  ice,  while  the  snow 
was  already  two  feet  deep,  and  I  was  compelled  to 
seek  shelter  behind  a  cliff,  for  there  was  a  driving 
wind,  bitterly  cold,  and  full  of  hail. 


-  "■■<., 


M 


CHAPTER  V 


MT.  ASSINIBOINE— OUTFITTING  FOR  A  CAMPING  TRIP— ANEC- 
DOTES ABOUT  THE  EARLY  SURVEYORS— ROUTE  TO  ASSINI- 
BOINE—A  RAINY  CAMP— DEEP  SNOW  ON  THE  SIMPSON  PASS 
—WOODS  OF   THE   SIMPSON  VALLEY— DEATH   OF  A   PACK- 
HORSE— END  OF  AN  EXHAUSTING  MARCH— FIRST  VIEW  OF 
ASSINIBOINE— A  BURNT  TIMBER  CAMP— MUSIC  OF  THE  WIL- 
DERNESS—IMPRESSIVE VIEW  OF   ASSINIBOINE— ENVIRON- 
MENT OF  OUR  CAMP— A  STRANGE   LAKE— UNDERGROUND 
STREAMS— MEASUREMENT  OF  THE   MOUNTAIN  —  WE   COM- 
MENCE A  TOUR  ROUND  IT—  DISCOVER  A  DEEP  VALLEY  AND 
THREE  NEW  LAKES— A   V/ASTE  OF   FALLEN   TIMBER— OUR 
FIRST  BIVOUAC— ASCENT  OF  AN  UNKNOWN  STREAM— FOILED 
BY  A  CUL-DE-SAC— HOPE  AND  DESPAIR— SUCCESS  AT  LAST 
—DESCENT  INTO  THE  NORTH  FORK  VALLEY— AN  EXHAUST- 
ING MARCH 


ONE  of  the  highest  mountains  of  southern 
Canada  is  Mt.  Assiniboine,  wnich  lies 
about  twenty-five  miles  south  of  Banff. 
This  remarkable  peak  attracted  the  surveyor's  atten- 
tion very  early  and  its  position  was  determined  as  a 
prominent  landmark  long  before  it  was  visited.  Dr. 
Dawson  saw  it  from  the  White  Man's  Pass  and 
named  it  after  a  tribe  of  plains  Indians.  So  far  as  I 
have  been  able  to  discover,  the  first  person  to  reach 

69 


:l 


70 


tSbc  ItocMee  of  Catuiba 


the  base  of  the  mountain  was  Mr.  R.  L.  Barrett,  who 
visited  it  with  Tom  Wilson  in  1893. 

The  reputed  interest  of  the  mountain,  and  the  sur- 
rounding region,  which  was  said  to  be  dotted  with 
numerous  lakes,  made  me  decide  to  arrange  for  a 
visit  during  the  summer  of  1895.  Fortunately  it  was 
the  intention  of  Mr.  Barrett,  who  was  then  at  Banff, 
to  revisit  Assiniboine  with  his  friend  Mr.  J.  F.  Porter, 
and  upon  comparing  plans  it  was  evident  that  mutual 
advantage  would  come  from  combining  our  forces. 
There  were  to  be  two  separate  parties,  with  men 
for  each,  travelling  as  one.  Thus  we  were  ready 
at  any  time,  in  the  event  of  disagreement  as  to 
routes  or  plans,  to  separate  and  take  our  several 
ways. 

The  sixth  of  July  was  the  date  determined  upon 
for  our  departure.  In  the  meantime  we  made  fre- 
quent trips  to  the  log  house  of  our  outfitter,  Tom 
Wilson,  who  was  to  supply  us  with  pack-horses, 
guides,  and  our  entire  camping  outfit.  Many  years 
previously  Wilson  had  packed  for  the  railroad  sur- 
veyors and  was  regarded  one  of  the  best  packers  in 
the  North-west.  He  has  a  remarkable  memory  for 
the  details  of  any  country  that  he  has  ever  seen  and 
is,  moreover,  peculiarly  alive  to  special  points  of 
interest  or  attractive  scenery  in  the  mountains,  a 
quality  that  is  conspicuously  absent  in  the  majority 
of  the  people  conr.ected  with  the  North-west. 

July  commenced  rainy  and  cold,  but  our  arrange- 
ments went  forward  without  interruption.    Wilson's 


anec^ote0  about  Earli?  Survei^ore 


7' 


place  was  a  scene  of  busy  preparation  during  the  last 
two  or  three  days.  Pack-saddles,  piles  of  blankets, 
tents,  and  ropes  were  to  be  seen  here  and  there, 
while  bags  of  provisions  and  canned  goods  of  all 
kinds  were  ready  for  final  assortment.  Rashers  of 
bacon  and  bags  of  flour  made  the  bulk  of  our  pro- 
visions, while  the  smaller  packages  contained  dried 
fruits  of  several  varieties,  cereals,  sugar,  tea,  and 
coffee.  Pots  and  pails,  knives,  forks,  and  spoons 
were  collected  in  other  places,  while  our  men,  who 
were  already  engaged  for  the  trip,  were  bringing 
order  from  a  chaos  of  articles,  and  making  sure  that 
the  saddle-girths,  head-ropes,  and  hobbles  were  in 
good  condition,  the  axes  sharp,  and  the  rifles  bright 
and  clean. 

"  It  is  all  very  well,"  said  Wilson  one  night  after 
we  had  been  talking  over  the  possibilities  of  our  trip, 
"to  travel  with  maps,  or  a  guide,  and  you  will  have 
no  trouble,  but  1  remember  some  strange  things  that 
have  happened  in  these  mountains.  When  the  sur- 
veyors were  searching  for  the  best  route  across  the 
Rockies,  Major  Rogers  sent  a  party  to  explore  the 
Kananaskis  Pass.  The  man  in  charge  of  this  party 
was  to  find,  if  possible,  a  way  to  the  Columbia,  but 
at  the  summit  of  the  pass  he  came  to  a  stream  which 
flowed  in  a  direction  east  of  south.  He  retreated 
after  he  h.id  followed  the  stream  a  short  distance,  as 
its  course  made  him  certain  that  he  was  still  on  the 
eastern  slope  of  the  range.  But  he  was  at  the  head 
of  the  Elk  River,  which  flows  into  the  Columbia  by 


n 


72 


JStoc  IRoMcB  of  Cana^a 


way  of  the  Kootenay,  and  so,  without  realising  it, 
had  crossed  the  divide. 

"Major  Rogers  himself,"  Tom  resumed,  "was 
upon  one  occasion  more  completely  turned  round 
than  that, -trying  to  cross  the  Selkirk  Range.  He 
started  up  the  Beaver  River  from  the  Columbia  and, 
turning  up  Grizzly  Creek,  struck  the  headwaters  of 
the  Spilimichene,  till  at  last  'le  came  out  again  on  the 
Columbia,  seventy  miles  from  where  he  started  in, 
and  on  the  same  side  of  the  range." 

Our  route  to  Mt.  Assiniboine  lay  through  the 
Simpson  Pass,  and  thence  down  the  Simpson  River 
to  a  certain  place  where  an  opening  in  the  mountains 
to  the  south  would  !ead  us  to  this  giant  of  the 
Rockies.  Our  journey  began  on  the  sixth  of  July, 
though  the  day  was  wet  and  showery.  Our  four 
men  with  nine  horses  started  before  noon  for  our 
first  camp  at  Healy's  Creek,  about  six  miles  from 
Banff.  Barrett,  Porter,  and  1  came  later,  on  foot,  and 
after  a  mile  or  so  of  good  road,  plunged  into  the 
difficulties  of  a  bad  trail  in  a  burnt  timber  country, 
and  left  the  last  sign  of  civilisation  behind.  In  a 
drizzling  rain  we  made  our  way  over  charred  logs 
and  through  wet  brush,  hunting  for  the  trail  most 
of  the  time. 

We  came  at  length  to  Healy's  Creek,  a  large 
stream  that  comes  roaring  out  of  the  mountains  from 
the  west  and  drains  the  Simpson  Pass  to  swell  the 
Bow  River.  We  shouted  across  and  soon  saw  Peyto, 
one  of  our  packers,  coming  at  a  gallop  through  the 


...^M  ni>  m»M>m 


B  fRaln^  Camp 


73 


brush.  Chiniquay,  an  Indian  cayuse  which  he  rode, 
had  to  carry  us  one  by  one  across  the  creek,  which 
was  rather  deep  and  swift.  The  three  tents  of  our 
camp  had  been  prettily  grouped  under  some  spruces. 
Everything  was  in  order  and  the  cooks  were  prepar- 
ing supper  upon  our  arrival.  We  were  labouring 
under  many  of  those  imaginary  evils  which  by  some 
are  supposed  to  make  camp  life  intolerable,  soaked 
through  by  a  long  tramp  in  wet  brush  to  reach 
a  rainy  camp.  Nevertheless  we  were  all  happy,  as 
our  clothes  were  soon  drying  around  open  camp- 
fires,  where  a  fine  supper  was  served.  Then  we 
rolled  up  in  blankets  laid  on  balsam  boughs  and 
realised  that,  at  last,  our  journey  to  Assiniboine  was 
begun. 

"  Breakfast  is  ready,"  was  the  cheery  shout  that 
interrupted  our  dreams  the  next  morning.  The  ris- 
ing sun  was  struggling  through  uncertain  bands  of 
clouds  and  all  the  meadow  flowers  and  grass  were 
sparkling  with  pendent  diamonds  of  rain  and  dew  in 
the  early  light.  Peyto  and  Edwards  had  long  since 
driven  our  horses  into  camp  and  in  an  hour  the  men 
were  busy  packing.  Our  march  commenced  at 
eight  o'clock,  Peyto  leading,  the  bay  and  Pinto  —  our 
best  pack-horses  —  next,  and  then  our  several  men 
interspersed  among  the  animals  in  Indian  file. 
We  crossed  a  mile  of  flat  country  Pud,  turning 
southwards,  commenced  to  ascend  among  the  high 
mountains. 

The  interest  of  our  march  was  much  increased  by 


74 


Zbc  IRoclAcd  of  Canada 


iw 


In 


I 
I 

ml 

I 

(r 


'  m 


the  number  of  flowers  that  were  to  be  seen  as  we 
went  along.  In  damp,  mossy  woods  we  saw  the 
round-leafed  orchis,  a  very  pretty  plant  with  a  single 
green  leaf  and  a  raceme  of  rose-purple  flowers.  It  is 
quite  common  throughout  the  mountains.  A  rarer 
flower  and  one  of  exquisite  beauty  was  also  seen, 
the  Calypso,  a  ncthern  orchid  named  for  the  beauti- 
ful goddess  who  fell  in  love  with  Ulysses.  The 
single  blossoms  are  shaped  somewhat  like  those  of 
the  species  called  lady's  -  slipper,  and  combine  a 
showy  display  of  pink,  purple,  and  yellow  colours. 
There  is  a  sni^U  patch  of  green  timber  half  a  mile 
east  of  Laggan  station  where  this  flower  may  also 
be  found,  but  it  is  very  scarce  elsewhere. 

After  a  march  of  six  hours  we  made  camp  in  the 
deep  valley  of  the  north  fork  of  Healy's  Creek.  While 
the  men  were  putting  things  in  order,  it  was  dis- 
covered that  Edwards's  axe  had  been  lost  some  time 
on  the  day's  mirch.  In  view  of  the  long  journey 
before  us  and  the  possibility  of  considerable  trail  cut- 
ting, this  axe  was  indispensable  to  our  progress.  He 
saddled  his  horse  and  started  back,  saying  that  he 
would  not  return  till  it  had  been  found.  Contrary 
to  our  expectations,  he  did  not  return  that  day  nor 
for  a  period  of  nearly  two  weeks. 

Our  camp  was  only  a  few  miles  from  the  Simpson 
Pass,  and  the  next  day  we  reached  it  in  an  hour. 
The  summit  was  covered  with  snow,  and  many  of 
the  drifts  were  fifteen  or  twenty  feet  deep.  The  alti- 
tude of  this  pass  is  6884  feet,  and  the  entire  summit 


S>eep  Snow  on  tbe  Slmpeon  pa0d       75 

and  the  mountains  several  hundred  feet  higner 
are  covered  with  trees.  The  unusual  amount  of 
snow  in  July  was  the  result  of  a  long  and  stormy 
winter  followed  by  a  backward  spring.  The  day  of 
our  visit  was  warm,  and  the  snow  was  being  fast 
reduced  to  slush,  under  the  influence  of  a  mild  south 
wind.  The  pass  has  no  decided  slope  for  a  mile  or 
more,  but  is  broken  up  by  rocky  ridges  and  inter- 
spersed with  small  lakes.  When  our  descent  began, 
the  first  warm  southward  slopes  were  already  free 
of  snow  and  covered  with  banks  of  beautiful  A  pine 
flowers.  There  were  only  two  or  three  species  in 
these  snow-lined  flower-gardens,  but  the  multitude 
of  blossoms  made  up  for  the  lack  of  variety.  The 
great  white  anemone  and  the  yellow  Alpine  lily 
{Erythronium  grandiflortim)  were  in  all  stages  of 
bud  and  blossom,  revelling  in  the  balmy  breezes  and 
a  wealth  of  sunshine.  Our  heavy-footed  horses 
trampled  down  myriads  of  blossoms  in  a  ruthless 
destruction,  regardless  of  the  beauty  round  them, 
but  glad  to  get  into  a  place  where  there  was  hope 
of  grass.  We  had  crossed  the  great  divide  and 
passed  from  Alberta  to  British  Columbia.  An  Indian 
trail  led  us  down  by  a  stream  which,  at  first  a  mere 
rivulet  from  melting  snow,  had  now  become  a  brawl- 
ing torrent.  This  stream  ran  into  the  Pacific  Ocean. 
The  woods  became  deep  and  dark  with  sombre 
trees  of  great  height,  among  which  the  trail  wound 
deep  cut  in  the  loamy  soil,  and  led  us  at  length 
away  from  the  noise  of  falling  water  into  the  forest 


;  , 


76 


TTbe  ISocltiee  of  Canada 


►■i     I: 


I    I     i 


I' 

I 

f 


silence.  The  day's  march  ended  at  the  Simpson 
River,  where  we  camped  in  a  level  place  beside  many 
Indian  teepee-poles. 

July  9th.  The  entire  Simpson  valley  in  this  part 
is  an  unbroken  forest.  Several  thousand  feet  higher, 
bare  limestone  cliffs  rise  above  the  mass  of  green, 
making  a  picturesque  contrast,  but  there  is  little  per- 
petual snow  in  sight  from  the  depths  of  the  valley 
bottom.  Our  line  of  march  lay  near  the  Simpson 
River,  which  is  a  very  rapid  stream,  and  we  followed 
its  banks  for  several  hours.  During  one  of  several 
river  crossings  one  of  my  pack-horses  was  lamed  in 
a  mysterious  manner,  but  no  attention  was  at  first 
paid  to  what  seemed  a  trivial  accident.  However,  in 
a  few  minutes  we  made  a  final  crossing  before  we 
should  ascend  the  opposite  mountain  side  to  a  dis- 
tant valley  opening.  Barrett  said  this  was  the  route 
he  had  followed  with  Wilson  in  1893.  The  stream 
had  been  safely  crossed,  and  we  were  trying  a  short 
cut  to  the  trail  which  Peyto  had  located  just  previ- 
ously on  a  trip  of  reconnaissance,  and  while  flounder- 
ing through  a  soft,  mossy  wood,  the  horse  recently 
lamed  fell  in  a  rough  place.  The  poor  beast  could 
not  get  up  till  his  packs  were  removed,  and  then  it 
was  seen  that  his  leg  was  broken.  It  required  but  a 
few  minutes  to  remove  his  saddle,  and  then,  after  the 
other  horses  were  led  away  a  short  distance,  Peyto 
ended  the  unfortunate  animal's  life  with  a  rifle 
bullet. 

Barrett  said  it  was  not  far  to  a  pretty  lake  where 


I 


£n^  ot  an  £2:bau0tina  nDarcb 


n 


there  was  an  excellent  camping  place  and  good  feed 
for  the  horses.  Leaving  the  river  at  an  altitude  of 
about  forty-five  hundred  feet,  the  trail  ascended  by 
a  succession  of  steep  pitches  through  a  green  forest 
of  pine  and  spruce.  After  we  had  been  on  the 
march  for  six  hours  we  found  ourselves  entering  a 
high  valley  much  encumbered  by  rock-slides  which, 
though  easy  enough  for  us  to  walk  over,  were  very 
trying  and  dangerous  to  the  horses.  It  was  impos- 
sible to  camp  in  this  vicinity,  and  after  an  exhaust- 
ing march  of  three  hours  more  and  an  ascent  of  fully 
two  thousand  feet  from  the  Simpson  River,  we  made 
camp  in  a  delightful  place  near  a  stream.  Some 
bushy  meadows  promised  fine  feed  for  our  horses 
and  the  adjacent  woods  gave  us  fire-wood.  Even 
our  weary  pack  animals  when  their  saddles  were  re- 
moved rolled  on  the  ground  in  delight  and  scratched 
their  backs  before  running  off  to  the  meadow.  Axes 
were  at  work  cutting  fire-wood  and  poles,  so  that  in 
the  hour  while  our  cooks  were  preparing  dinner  the 
three  tents  were  placed  in  position  and  camp  put  in 
order  for  the  night. 

Our  valley  was  hemmed  in  by  mountains  which 
presented  a  continuous  barrier  on  either  side  for 
many  miles.  The  scenery  resembled  that  of  the 
Sierra  Nevadas  —  smooth  cliffs  dotted  here  and  there 
with  trees  or  clumps  of  bushes,  and  ornamented  by 
waterfalls  so  high,  and  so  distant  from  us,  that  they 
resembled  silver  threads  waving  from  side  to  side  in 
the  changing  breezes.     Sometimes  a  stronger  wind 


T 


78 


JSbc  VocMee  of  Canada 


i 


^ 


held  them  suspended  for  a  time  in  mid-air,  or  swept 
them  away  altogether  in  a  cloud  of  spray. 

Opposite  our  camp,  and  at  a  considerable  height 
above  it,  there  was  a  formation  upon  the  mountain 
like  a  rock  fortress,  where  nature  had  built  a  nearly 
perfect  representation  of  a  mediaeval  castle.  One 
might  easily  imagine  that  these  sharp  pinnacles  and 
rocky  clefts  were  ramparts,  embrasures,  and  turreted 
fortifications.  But  the  wild  goats,  marmots,  and 
picas  were  the  sole  owners  of  this  castle. 

fuly  loth.  From  a  small  lake  near  our  camp  we 
caught  a  dozen  trout  in  the  morning  while  our  men 
were  coming  up  the  valley.  It  appeared  that  a  few 
miles  would  bring  us  to  the  valley's  end,  where  a  high 
pass  seemed  to  terminate  the  ascent.  Filled  with 
hope  of  getting  our  first  view  of  Mt.  Assiniboine 
during  the  day,  we  were  on  the  march  at  an  early 
hour.  Lyall's  larch  and  scattered  snow-drifts  indi- 
cated our  increasing  altitude.  The  snow  soon  became 
so  deep  that  only  with  the  greatest  difficulty  could 
we  make  any  progress  whatsoever.  On  several 
occasions  our  horses  had  to  struggle  through  long 
stretches  of  snow,  five  or  six  feet  deep,  and  in  such 
places  we  all  went  ahead  and  trampled  out  a  pathway 
for  them.  Finally  a  long  bare  ridge,  well  exposed 
to  wind  and  sun,  offered  us  a  fine  route  through 
the  unbroken  snow  fields  and  led  us  to  the  summit. 

As  the  slope  began  to  fall  away  in  the  opposite 
direction  a  new  world  lay  before  us.  It  was  a  deso- 
late valley  of  burnt  timber,  beyond  which  appeared 


H  Burnt  ^Timber  Camp 


79 


a  richly  coloured  lake,  girt  by  green  forest  and  over- 
hung by  a  barrier  of  snowy  peaks.  Above  this 
rough  range,  the  sharp  crest  of  Mt.  Assiniboine  was 
faintly  seen  through  the  smoky  atmosphere,  for 
forest  fires  were  raging  somewhere  in  spite  of  the 
rainy  season.  We  descended  into  the  valley  and 
camped  in  burnt  timber  near  a  small  stream. 

That  our  men  and  horses  might  rest  after  the 
long  marches  of  the  last  four  days  it  was  decided 
to  spend  an  entire  day  at  this  place.  There  was 
little  of  the  picturesque  in  our  environment  of  burnt 
timber.  However,  this  camp  has  for  some  reason 
made  one  of  the  pleasantest  impressions  upon  my 
memory. 

Our  tents  were  placed  among  some  trees  killed  by 
fire.  The  ground  was  made  comparatively  smooth 
by  rolling  away  the  charred  logs,  cutting  the  bushes 
that  had  grown  up  in  recent  years,  and  strewing 
upon  the  ground  branches  from  trees  of  the  new 
generation.  In  a  swamp  near  us  a  number  of  birds 
were  nesting  and  calling  their  mates.  The  camp 
was  upon  the  edge  of  a  bluff  overlooking  a  bare 
ravine,  where  a  stream  ran  swiftly  in  a  timber- 
choked  channel,  and  gave  the  encroaching  bushes 
endless  rhythmic  movements,  as  the  splashing  water 
touched  them.  A  gentle  south  wind  coming  up  the 
valley  soothed  us  to  dreamy  slumbers.  The  stronger 
gusts  awakened  shrill  vibrations  in  the  dead  and 
splintered  trees,  or  carried  away  the  torrent's  roar  in 
frequent  alternation  of  sound  volume.     The  smoke 


8o 


TCbe  'RocItSed  of  Canaba 


>,  I 


I  >■ 


bathed  the  mountains  in  hazy  blue,  and  once,  com- 
ing in  greater  thickness,  nearly  concealed  them  alto- 
gether and  softened  the  sunlight  to  a  mellow  glow. 

The  thunder  of  repeated  ice  avalanches,  or  the 
loud  reports  of  stones  falling  upon  the  mountains, 
where  summer  was  loosening  the  frost,  several  times 
disturbed  my  siesta.  The  dreamy  rustle  of  wind- 
blown grass  and  the  varying  sound  of  the  torrent 
were,  however,  like  an  endless  slumber  song.  From 
a  bushy  copse  in  the  swamp  near  our  camp  two 
white-crested  sparrows  sang  the  entire  day  and  part 
of  the  night  a  plaintive  little  air  of  five  notes 
(C,  D,  E,  E,  C,  of  which  the  two  E's  are  eighth  notes, 
while  the  rest  are  quarters)  repeated  six  or  seven 
times  a  minute.  The  last  note  is  somewhat  faint 
and  flat.  This  feeble  and  pathetic  outpouring  of 
music  from  happy  creatures  seemed  to  accord  with 
the  barren  forest  ruin.  It  is  difficult  to  understand 
the  exquisite  pleasure  that  often  comes  from  such 
chance  associations.  There  is  something  wonderfully 
beautiful  in  the  idea  of  a  pretty  melody  repeated 
throughout  the  long  summer  in  the  heart  of  a  wilder- 
ness where,  in  the  waste  of  charred  trees  and  waving 
fireweed,  the  music  of  one  little  bird  stirs  the  heart- 
beats of  but  one  other  creature,  its  mate. 

Tuly  1 2th.  We  marched  east  for  two  hours,  find- 
ing a  route  among  the  fallen  timber  as  well  as  we 
could.  At  length  a  steep  ascent  brought  us  by  a 
waterfall  to  a  grove  of  larches  beyond  which  a  beau- 
tiful lake  appeared.     The  transformation  from  the 


Impreeeive  View  of  Heelniboine 


8i 


fe 

a 


waste  of  burnt  timber  was  immediate  and  complete. 
A  well-marked  trail  led  around  the  winding  shore  on 
our  left,  the  other  side  of  the  narrow  lake  being 
hemmed  in  by  rock-slides  and  cliffs.  The  last  ice  of 
winter  was  drifting  before  the  wind,  and  the  water 
was  covered  in  several  places  with  a  kind  of  slush, 
made  of  innumerable  slender  ice-needles.  These 
gave  a  faint  sound  like  the  rustle  of  silk  as  they 
rubbed  one  against  another  in  the  ripples.  The 
trail  led  us  by  the  lake  for  half  a  mile  and  then,  leav- 
ing it,  ascended  a  rocky  ridge  through  a  grass-lined 
opening.  Another  lake  was  immediately  disclosed, 
and  beyond  it  mighty  Assiniboine. 

The  majestic  mountain,  which  is  a  noble  pyramid 
of  rock  towering  above  snow  fields,  was  clearly  re- 
flected in  the  water  surface.  Such  a  picture  so  sud- 
denly revealed  aroused  the  utmost  enthusiasm  of 
all  our  party,  and  unconsciously  everyone  paused  in 
admiration  while  our  horses  strayed  from  the  trail 
to  graze.  Continuing  once  more,  we  traversed  some 
open  places  among  low  ridges  covered  with  beautiful 
larches.  We  passed  through  a  delightful  region 
which  descended  gently  for  half  a  mile  to  a  treeless 
moor,  where  we  pitched  camp.  Behind  us  was  a 
clump  of  trees,  before  us  Mt.  Assiniboine,  and  on  our 
left  a  lake  of  considerable  size,  which  washed  the 
very  base  of  the  mountain  and  extended  northwards 
in  the  bottom  of  a  broad  valley. 

We  remained  here  for  a  period  of  two  weeks. 
The  altitude  of  this  place  is  seventy-four  hundred  feet. 


82 


tllK  1{ocMe0  of  Canada 


•    i 


I'i 

I 


This  is  considerably  above  the  usual  tree-line  of  these 
mountains,  though  there  were  a  considerable  number 
of  spruces  and  larches  not  only  at  the  level  of  our 
camp  but  several  hundred  feet  higher.  1  attribute 
this  to  the  open  character  of  the  valley,  v^hich  receives 
a  considerable  amount  of  sunshine,  and  so  collects 
sufficient  heat  to  raise  the  level  of  possible  tree 
growth  above  the  normal.  Mt.  Assiniboine  was  al- 
most due  south  from  our  camp.  The  distance  in  a 
straight  line  was  more  than  a  mile  to  its  base  and 
nearly  three  to  its  summit.  Two  diverging  spurs 
from  Assiniboine  enclose  this  valley.  To  the  north 
it  expands  into  open  places,  interrupted  in  part  by 
scattered  tree  clumps,  but  covered  generally  with  a 
low,  bushy  growth.  The  smaller  trees  which  grow 
in  the  open  are  dwarfed  and  distorted  by  their  cease- 
less struggle  with  cold.  Even  at  the  borders  of  thick 
groves  the  spruces  often  show  a  regular  line  of 
branches,  like  a  trimmed  hedge,  as  though  no  single 
branchlet  would  venture  into  the  cold  air  beyond  its 
company. 

The  higher  dry  ground  is  uneven  and  hummocky 
from  the  burrowings  of  innumerable  picas  and  mar- 
mots. These  are  a  variety  of  Parry's  marmot,  some- 
times called  the  red-bellied  ground  squirrel,  which  is 
considerably  smaller  than  the  siflfleur,  or  great  hoary 
marmot,  so  common  in  these  mountains.  The  wolve- 
renes have  dug  into  their  burrows  and  by  throwing 
out  piles  of  dirt  and  great  pieces  of  turf  have  added 
to  the  roughness  of  the  region.    In  the  meadowy 


i 


"''^■^'**''">ifh'^'"- ^  w" 


%^'   ."■  •,  ■^7}'  ■  ''',i>  ■'"  i.?^.--'-*  -^M:  Jbl'^^i'  ,*...'  '.  -*    'r^a/.'- 


-   J   f  '   -.  .  —     i<lj        .   •ViilU' 


#^ 


Mount  Assiniboinc, 


1  I 


. 


f  I 


t 

'■ 

.'■, 

I 

!  ll 


Vu, 


k 


ft  i 


i'  I 


f   I 


ri 


B  Strandc  Xatie 


83 


and  swampy  places  where  our  horses  pastured,  two 
miles  north  of  camp,  some  curious  action  of  frost  has 
converted  the  ground  into  a  mass  of  low  grass- 
crowned  hummocks  with  bare  soil  between.    Alto- 
gether 1  have  never  seen  a  region  which  is  more 
tiring  to  the  pedestrian  than  this,  because  of  these 
endless  inequalities  of  the  ground,  which  are  half 
concealed  by  dwarfed  trees  and  a  tough  underbrush. 
The  large  lake  near  the  position  of  our  camp  has 
some  peculiar  features.    At  the  time  of  our  arrival  a 
strong  wind  was  driving  cakes  of  ice  down  the  lake 
amid  whitecaps.    The  lake  seems  to  rest  against  a 
small  glacier  at  the  foot  of  Mt.  Assiniboine  where  it 
gets  a  large  part  of  its  water-supply.    A  large  stream 
enters  it  at  the  opposite  or  north  end,  and  several 
others  come  in  at  various  poirts,  but  we  were  sur- 
prised to  find  no  outlet.    This,  however,  explained 
the  rapid  change  in  water  level  which  we  had  no- 
ticed.   The  lake  was  rising  at  the  rate  of  several 
inches  every  twenty-four  hours.    There  were  indi- 
cations on  the  shore  that  the  water  had  at  some 
comparatively  recent  period  been  ten  or  twelve  feet 
higher.   Where  do  the  subterranean  waters  escape  ? 
Perhaps  the  curious  nature  of  a  valley  north  of  our 
camp  may  throw  some  light  upon  this  subject. 

Peyto  had  put  our  horses  in  a  meadow  two 
miles  from  camp.  He  made  frequent  visits  to  the 
place  while  looking  after  the  horses,  and  upon  one 
occasion  made  a  trip  of  six  or  seven  miles  down  the 
valley.   The  streams  from  these  meadows  run  north- 


84 


JZbc  'RocMee  ot  Canada 


wards,  disappear  into  the  ground,  reappear  several 
times,  and  finally  vanish  altogether.  In  this  valley 
a  mile  or  so  farther  on  is  a  curious  lake  set  in  a  lime- 
stone basin.  One  or  two  small  streams  enter  it,  and 
a  number  of  air  bubbles  rising  through  its  clear  wa- 
ter in  several  places  indicate  subterranean  springs, 
but  there  is  no  outlet.  Then  for  three  miles  no 
stream  or  sign  of  water  is  visible  in  this  weird  valley 
of  curious  limestone  hills  covered  with  a  few  trees. 
At  the  base  of  a  great  hill,  however,  where  the 
valley  bottom  drops  suddenly  six  or  seven  hundred 
feet,  a  number  of  springs  gush  out,  and  this  we  dis- 
covered later  was  the  source  of  the  Simpson  River. 
Everything  seems  to  show  that  the  waters  of  *!ie 
last  lake,  the  meadows  beyond,  and  perhaps  also  the 
large  lake  at  the  base  of  Mt.  Assiniboine  are  carried 
in  underground  passages  to  make  these  springs. 
The  whole  region  is  a  limestone  formation  and 
abounds  in  caves  and  sink-holes. 

It  has  been  mentioned  that  on  the  second  day's 
march  one  of  our  packers,  Edwards,  had  gone  back 
to  find  a  lost  axe.  At  every  subsequent  camp,  there- 
fore, we  had  left  a  supply  of  provisions  and  infor- 
mation about  the  route  we  were  going  to  pursue. 
More  than  ten  days  had  now  elapsed  and  nothing 
had  been  heard  from  him.  Peyto's  fertile  imagina- 
tion conjured  up  visions  of  his  having  been  drowned 
in  Healy's  Creek,  and  1  must  confess  that  we  were 
all  somewhat  worried  It  seemed  best  to  send  Peyto 
back  on  a  fast  saddle-horse,  to  make  inquiries  at 


i 


»  it^.im  A*.-w«r*«.  , 


-.•««"»  jr.-!-.vJ 


I 


li 

I 


nDeaeuremcnt  of  tbc  nDountaln         85 

Banff,  and  improve  the  opportunity  of  bringing  out 
another  horse  to  replace  the  one  that  had  been  shot. 
Meanwhile,  as  Mt.  Assiniboine  seemed  a  serious 
problem  for  even  a  well-equipped  Alpine  party,  we 
made  no  attempt  to  climb  the  mountain.  We  con- 
tented ourselves  with  a  number  of  lesser  mountain 
ascents,  and  from  several  points  between  eight  thou- 
sand and  nine  thousand  feet  high  obtained  splendid 
views  of  the  giant  of  the  Rockies. 

There  were,  unfortunately,  no  surveying  instru- 
ments in  our  outfit,  but  I  determined  to  get  a  rough 
approximation  on  the  height  of  Assiniboine.    I  used 
my  camera  tripod  for  a  plane  table  and  made  a 
little  alidade  by  adjusting  two  upright  sticks  to  an- 
other with  a  straight  edge.    The  upright  sticks  were 
threaded  with  horse-hairs.    Taking  a  piece  of  linen 
tiiread  about  fifteen  yards  long  1  set  up  stakes  and 
laid  out  a  base  line.    This  thread  was  carefully  meas- 
ured when  I  reached  Banff.    With  these  crude  in- 
struments I  plotted  out  and  found  the  horizontal 
distance  to  the  top  of  the  mountain,  and  repeated 
the  operation  several  times.    For  the  vertical  angles 
I  set  up  a  table  and  a  basin  of  water.    I  had  a  large 
piece  of  celluloid  as  a  substitute  ground  glass  for  my 
camera,  and  on  this  a  straight  line  was  ruled  and 
made  to  coincide  with  the  water  surface.    Then  two 
needles  were  used  as  sights,  ind  the  vertical  angle 
to  the  mountain  top  was  inuelibly  scratched  on  the 
celluloid  and  measured  later.    By  adding  the  result 
thus  determined  to  the  altitude  of  our  camp,  1  got 


il 


86 


Zbc  "Rocliiee  of  Canaba 


II 

r 
1, 

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11 

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. 

i 

i 

ii,68o  feet  for  the  total  height  of  Mt.  Assiniboine. 
The  result  obtained  by  the  Topographical  Survey 
of  Canada  from  angles  taken  at  a  distance  is  11,830 
feet.  This,  no  doubt,  is  very  nearly  the  exact  height, 
and  the  comparative  agreement  of  my  result  is 
probably  due  to  several  errors  cancelling  themselves 
out  and  so  giving  a  better  result  than  the  instru- 
ments deserved. 

One  day,  about  a  week  after  leaving  us,  Peyto 
galloped  into  camp  with  another  horse,  some  addi- 
tional provist  J  nd  our  guide  Edwards.  The  lat- 
ter said  he  hau  ilowed  us  for  four  days'  march, 
when  he  lost  our  trail  and  returned  to  Banff. 

Shortly  after  Peyto's  arrival,  Barrett  and  I  pro- 
jected a  plan  to  see  the  south  side  of  Mt.  Assini- 
boine. As  the  country  was  very  rough,  it  was 
impossible  to  make  the  trip  with  horses,  so  we  pre- 
pared to  try  it  on  foot.  We  were  going  into  a  coun- 
try that  in  all  probability  had  never  been  visited  by 
any  white  man.  We  each  carried  a  single  blanket 
and  food  enougl*  to  last  three  days.  These  burdens 
were  made  as  light  as  possible,  for  the  success  of  our 
expedition  would  depend  in  a  large  measure  on  the 
rapidity  of  our  movements.  My  camera,  several 
cups  rnd  knives,  a  small  hand-axe,  and  a  few  other 
articles  which  seemed  absolutely  necessary  were 
distributed  among  our  packs. 

On  the  26th  of  July,  Barrett,  Peyto,  and  1  started 
on  this  expedition,  which,  though  attended  by  con- 
siderable hardship,  eventually  proved  most  valuable 


I 


a  Beep  tOallei?  8; 

and  interesting.  At  eight  o'clock  we  bade  farewell 
to  those  at  the  main  camp  and  said  we  should  return 
on  the  third  or  fourth  day.  We  walked  three  miles 
to  the  north-east,  through  open  country,  which  rises 
gradually  to  a  pass  eight  thousand  feet  above  sea- 
level.  On  the  summit  of  this  a  deep  valley  lay  before 
us,  very  heavily  wooded  and  nearly  filled  by  three 
lakes,  one  of  which  is  three  or  four  miles  long,  while 
the  two  upper  ones  are  smaller.  The  water  of  each 
is  differently  coloured,  one  yellowish  green,  another 
blue-green,  and  the  other  blue.  All  are  fed  by  a 
stream  coming  from  a  glacier  on  Mt.  Assiniboine 
which  presently  appt  red  on  our  right. 

We  descended  two  thousand  feet  into  the  valley 
and  took  a  short  rest  by  the  blue  waters  of  the  mid- 
dle lake.     The  air  was  oppressively  hot  and  we 
struggled  amid  the  pitfalls  of  very  large  timber,  mak- 
ing slow  progress  and  tormented  by  myriads  of  mos- 
quitoes.    We  crossed  this  narrow  valley  between 
the  two  upper  lakes  and  found  a  fallen  tree  that 
served  for  a  bridge  over  the  stream.    Then  ensued  a 
difficult  scramble  up  the  opposite  side  of  the  valley, 
which  made  us  climb  again  nearly  the  entire  two 
thousand  feet  of  our  first  descent.    This  hard  work 
ended  suddenly  when  we  found  ourselves  in  a  com- 
paratively  level   valley,   beautified  by  meandering 
streams,  open  meadows,  and  a  few  small  lakes.    On 
the  summit  of  a  pass  where  the  water  turned  in  the 
opposite  direction  we  ate  lunch  and  took  an  hour  of 
rest  beside  a  rock-girt  pool. 


i 


■{ 


88 


^i^bc  'RocMea  of  Canada 


■.!  i' 


■'' 


\i 


1  : 
f 

. 

i 

i 
1 

1 

i  1  ' 

1    : 
! 

1  •  ' 

\ 

\ 

1 

1 

1' 

I 

This  was  the  end  both  of  the  green  timber  and  of 
our  pleasant  surroundings,  for  shortly  after  resuming 
our  journey  we  came  to  a  burnt  forest.  It  seemed 
that  the  entire  valley  had  been  utterly  devastated  by 
afire  which  had  swept  through  this  region  apparently 
not  many  years  before.  Many  of  the  trees  had  been 
completely  destroyed,  while  the  youngest  had  been 
charred  and  warped  into  arched  poles  with  the'r  tops 
touching  the  ground.  Ledges  of  sandstone  and 
quartz  had  been  splintered  by  the  intense  heat  into 
sharp-edged  fragments  which  covered  the  ground. 
The  direction  of  this  desolate  valley  soon  changed 
sharply  to  our  right  and  we  felt  that  a  corner  of  Assini- 
boine  had  been  turned.  There  was  no  sign  of  any 
trail  and  it  is  very  doubtful  if  the  Indians  ever  used 
this  route  among  the  mountains.  The  fallen  timber 
became  denser  as  we  progressed.  The  monotony  of 
our  travel  was  interrupted  by  our  coming  to  a  sudden 
pitch  or  descent  of  the  entire  valley  where  there  was 
an  abrupt  fall  of  about  five  hundred  feet.  Arrived 
at  the  bottom  of  this,  we  had  not  walked  far  before 
another  appeared,  similar  to  the  first,  only  far  deeper. 
The  mountains,  which  were  very  high  on  either  side, 
seemed  to  rise  above  us  to  far  greater  altitudes  as,  in 
rapid  descent,  we  reached  lower  levels. 

The  burnt  timber  continued  without  interruption. 
Our  passage  became  mere  log  walking,  as  the  extra 
exertion  of  jumping  over  the  trees  was  worse  than 
following  a  crooked  course  on  top  of  the  prostrate 
trunks.     This  laborious  and  exceedingly  tiresome 


^ 


n 


n 

te 


MT.  ASSINIBOINE  FROM  THE  EAST 


I 


in    \ 


J.  1 


•i  • 


1 


H  TIQaete  of  fallen  zrimbcr  89 

work  lasted  for  three  hours,  and  at  length  the  charred 
trunks,  uprooted  or  burnt  off  near  the  ground,  and 
crossed  in  every  direction,  were  piled  so  high  that  we 
were  often  ten  or  twelve  feet  above  the  ground,  and 
had  to  work  out  our  puzzling  passage  with  consider- 
able forethought.    At  five  o'clock  our  labours  ended. 
We  made  camp  by  a  stream  which  seemed  to  take  its 
source  near  Mt.  Assiniboine.    The  only  good  thing 
about  this  place  was  the  abundance  of  fire-wood 
which  was  well  seasoned,  required  but  little  chop- 
ping, and  was  already  half  converted  into  charcoal 
Under  the  shelter  of  an  overhanging  limestone  ledge 
we  made  three  lean-tos  by  supporting  our  blankets 
on  upright  stakes.    Black  as  coal-heavers  from  our 
long  walk  in  the  burnt  timber,  seeking  a  refuge  in 
the  rocky  ledges  of  the  mountains,  and  clad  in  un- 
couth garments  torn  and  discoloured,  we  must  have 
resembled  the  aboriginal  savages  of  this  wild  region. 
Some  thick  masses  of  sphagnum  moss,  long  since 
dried  up,  gave  us  a  soft  covering,  to  place  on  the 
rough,  rocky  ground.   Our  supper  consisted  of  bacon, 
hardtack,  and  tea.     Large  flat  stones  placed  on  a 
gentle  charcoal  fire  served  to  broil  our  bacon  quite 
successfully,  though  the  heat  soon  cracked  the  stones 
in  pieces. 

We  were  now  on  the  Pacific  slope  and,  as  we  be- 
lieved, on  one  of  the  tributaries  of  the  north  fork  of  the 
Cross  River,  which  flows  into  the  Kootenay.  The 
aneroid  indicated  that  our  altitude  was  only  forty- 
seven  hundred  feet  above  the  sea,  and  showed  that 


')  fi 


f 


90 


^be  ItocMee  of  Canada 


1! 


it 


ji. 


we  were  nearly  three  thousand  feet  below  the  level 
of  the  camp  we  had  left  nine  hours  before.  At  eight 
o'clock,  though  it  was  still  light,  we  retired  to  the 
rough  protection  of  our  shelter  with  a  fire  burning 
near  us.  Overhead  the  starless  sky  threatened  rain, 
which  fortunately  did  not  come,  while  the  clouds 
and  our  lower  altitude  made  the  night  comfortably 
warm. 

On  the  following  day  everyone  was  ready  to  pro- 
ceed at  an  early  hour.  Hitherto  in  our  journey  around 
Assiniboine  we  had  turned  to  the  right  wherever  any 
valley  or  pass  gave  us  the  opportunity.  Thus  we 
were  making  a  circuit  of  its  several  spurs  and  keeping 
as  near  the  great  mountain  as  possible.  However, 
no  view  had  been  obtained  of  the  main  peak  after 
leaving  the  valley  of  the  three  lakes,  where  we 
looked  upon  its  north-east  face.  This  first  bivouac 
was  beside  a  stream  of  moderate  size,  coming  out 
of  a  valley  at  right  angles  to  the  one  we  had  re- 
cently followed.  It  seemed  altogether  better  to 
explore  this,  that  we  might  keep  as  near  as  possible 
to  Assiniboine  and  not  find  our  view  cut  off  by  any 
intervening  mountain  range.  With  practice  a  very 
fair  idea  of  the  length  of  these  mountain  valleys  may 
be  had  by  observing  the  size  of  streams  and  the 
amount  of  water  they  carry.  This  one  seemed  to 
indicate  a  valley  between  eight  and  ten  miles  in 
length. 

We  were  on  the  march  about  seven  o'clock  and 
began  to  ascend  the  stream.    Our  plan  was  to  follow 


^ 


/oiIe^  bi?  a  CuUbe^ac  91 

the  valley  as  far  as  practicable  and  see  what  would 
develop,  but  beyond  that  everything  was  indefinite. 
Clouds  covered  the  entire  sky  and  touched  the 
mountain  tops,  but  the  worst  sign  of  bad  weather 
was  that  they  constantly  settled  to  lower  levels. 
We  had  this  one  day,  however,  to  see  the  south  side 
of  Assiniboine,  and  were  resolved  to  take  our  chances, 
though  they  seemed  much  against  us. 

We  traversed  the  unending  burnt  timber  by  first 
scaling  far  up  to  avoid  a  canyon  and  then  coming 
down  to  the  stream,  where  at  length  there  was 
better  walking.  About  ten  o'clock  we  sat  down  on 
the  bank  to  rest  a  few  moments  and  to  eat  a  lunch 
of  hardtack  and  cold  bacon.  In  the  fresh  mountain 
air  even  this  rough  fare  was  most  appetising  after 
our  tramp  of  three  hours  amongst  fallen  trees. 

A  most  encouraging  change  of  weather  now  took 
place,  for  a  sudden  gleam  of  sunlight  called  our  at- 
tention upwards,  where  to  our  great  relief  blue  sky 
appeared  and  the  clouds  seemed  to  be  dissolving 
away. 

Once  more  taking  up  our  various  packs,  we  pushed 
on  with  renewed  energy.  On  the  left  or  south,  was 
a  long  and  lofty  ridge  of  nearly  uniform  height,  on 
the  right  a  stupendous  mountain  wall  of  great  height, 
the  top  of  which  was  concealed  by  the  cloud-.  This 
impassable  barrier  seemed  to  curve  arouna  at  the 
head  of  the  valley,  and,  turning  to  the  south,  join 
the  ridge  on  the  opposite  side.  This  then  was  a 
cul-de-sac,  or   ** blind"   valley  without  an  outlet. 


I 


92 


^be  "RocMee  ot  Cana^a 


I 


f 


' ) 


There  were  two  courses  open  to  us.  The  first  was 
to  wait  a  few  hours,  hoping  to  see  Mt.  Assiniboine, 
and  return  to  camp  the  way  we  came.  The  second 
was  to  force  a  passage,  if  possible,  over  the  mount- 
ain ridge  to  the  south  and  so  descend  into  the  North 
Fork  valley,  which  we  were  certain  lay  on  the  other 
side.  The  latter  plan  was  preferable,  as  we  would 
have  a  better  chance  to  see  Mt.  Assiniboine,  and  the 
possibility  of  returning  to  camp  by  a  new  route. 
After  a  short  discussion,  we  selected  a  favourable  slope 
and  began  to  ascend  the  mountain  ridge.  In  memory 
a  great  number  of  obstacles  loomed  behind  us — two 
high  passes,  dense  forests,  and  that  endless  valley  of 
dead  timber  where  the  trees  were  crossed  in  be- 
wildering confusion.  Hope  built  a  pleasing  air-castle 
in  striking  contrast  to  this  picture.  We  were  now 
climbing  to  its  outworks  and,  should  we  succeed  in 
capturing  the  place,  a  new  and  probably  interesting 
route  would  lead  us  back  to  camp  —  so  extravagant 
is  hope — perhaps  by  nightfall.  Thus  with  a  repel- 
lent force  behind  us  and  eager  desire  to  complete  our 
circuit  of  the  mountain,  we  were  resolved  not  to 
retrace  our  steps. 

The  slope  we  were  now  ascending  was  at  first 
comparatively  gentle.  We  passed  several  red-col- 
oured ledges  containing  deposits  of  iron  ore,  while 
calcite  and  carbonate  of  iron  were  visible  everywhere 
and  made  a  brilliant  surface  of  sparkling  crystals 
over  the  dull  limestones.  In  the  valley  below,  two 
lakes  appeared  as  we  ascended,  one  of  which  was 


1}ope  an^  Be0pair 


93 


literally  covered  with  floating  trees,  the  result,  no 
doubt,  of  a  winter  snow-slide. 

In  an  hour  we  had  come  to  the  apparent  top  of 
our  ridge,  though  hope  hardly  dared  suggest  that  it 
was  the  true  summit.  As  one  after  another  we 
reached  a  commanding  spot,  a  blank  look  of  despair 
stole  over  the  face  of  each.  No  word  was  spoken, 
but  that  silent  gaze  meant  our  defeat.  To  our  dis- 
may, a  vertical  wall  of  rock  appeared  and  rose  five 
hundred  feet  above  us.  Thus  all  our  fond  hopes 
were  suddenly  defeated  and  we  turned  perforce,  in 
imagination,  to  a  weary  retreat  over  the  many  miles 
of  prostrate  tree  trunks  that  intervened  between  us 
and  our  camp. 

The  main  object  of  our  long  journey  was,  how- 
ever, at  this  time  attained,  for  the  clouds  lifted  and 
revealed  the  south  side  of  Mt.  Assiniboine,  a  sight 
that  probably  no  other  white  men  have  ever  seen. 
I  took  my  camera  and  descended  on  a  rocky  ridge 
for  some  distance  in  order  to  get  a  photograph.  Re- 
turning to  where  my  friends  were  resting,  1  felt  the 
first  sensation  of  dizziness  and  weakness,  resulting 
from  unusual  physical  exertion  and  a  meagre  diet. 
1  joined  the  others  in  another  repast  of  raisins  and 
hardtack,  taken  from  our  rapidly  diminishing  store 
of  provisions. 

Some  more  propitious  divinity  must  have  been 
guiding  our  affairs  at  this  time,  for  while  we  were 
despondent  at  our  defeat,  and  engaged  in  discussing 
the  most  extravagant  routes  up  an  inaccessible  cliff, 


•f! 


I 


•I 


1 


Jl 


!  h 


i  I 


94 


Zbe  l^ochicd  of  (^ana^a 


our  eyes  fell  on  a  well-defined  goat  trail  leading 
along  the  mountain  side  on  our  left.  It  offered  a 
chance  which  we  accepted.  Peyto  set  off  ahead  while 
we  were  packing  up  our  burdens.  Having  already 
passed  several  places  that  appeared  very  dangerous, 
what  was  our  surprise  to  see  him  now  begin  to 
move  slowly  up  a  slope  of  snow  that  appeared  nearly 
vertical.  We  argued  that  if  he  could  go  up  such  a 
place  as  that,  he  could  go  anywhere,  and  that  where 
he  went  we  could  follow.  We  hurried  after  him 
and  found  the  goat  trail  wide  and  the  worst  places 
not  so  bad  as  they  seemed  from  below.  The  snow 
ascent  was  very  steep  but  safe  enough,  and  after 
reaching  the  top,  the  goat  trail  led  us  on,  like  a  faith- 
ful guide,  showing  us  the  way.  We  could  see  only 
a  short  distance  ahead  because  of  numerous  ridges 
and  gullies.  Below  us  was  a  steep  slope  roughened 
by  projecting  crags,  while,  as  we  passed  along, 
showers  of  loose  stones  rolled  down  the  mountain 
side  and  made  an  infernal  clatter,  ever  reminding  us 
not  to  slip.  At  one  o'clock  we  stood  on  the  top  f 
the  ridge  nine  thousand  feet  above  sea-level,  having 
ascended  forty-three  hundred  feet  from  our  last  c:  mp. 
The  valley  of  the  north  fork  of  the  Cross  River 
lay  far  below,  covered  with  green  forests,  which 
gave  a  pleasant  invitation  for  us  to  descend.  Gallop- 
ing down  a  long  slope  of  loose  scree,  with  a  shower 
of  rocks  following  us,  we  came  to  rough  limestone 
gullies  where  unstable  footholds  suggested  caution. 
Then  ensued  several  hundred  feet  of  bare  rock-slides, 


SOUTH  SIDE  OF  MT.  ASSINIBOINE 


J 


•; 

♦ 


.!       » 


'Ml 


Beecent  into  Dortb  fovJx  IDallei? 


95 


where  among  the  lichen-covered  stones  the  highest 
Alpine  flowers  appeared,  and  then  very  soon  tufts  of 
grass  and  green  slopes,  with  a  few  dwarfed  trees. 
Their  increasing  size,  the  warm  air,  and  at  length  a 
deep  forest  indicated  our  rapid  descent.  A  final 
slope,  where  copses  of  birch  and  a  few  small  maples 
showed  that  we  were  on  the  Pacific  side  of  the 
range,  led  us  through  a  garden  of  bluebells,  asters, 
and  pa'nted-cup  to  a  meadow  by  the  river.  Here 
we  paused  to  admire  our  surroundings  and  feast  on 
wild  strawberries.  In  this  place  we  were  four  thou- 
sand feet  below  the  ridge  from  which  we  had  re- 
cently gazed  on  Mt.  Assiniboine. 

This  was  the  north  fork  of  the  Cross  River,  no 
doubt  the  same  stream  by  which  we  had  camped  on 
our  journey  to  Assiniboine,  and  the  same  that  takes 
its  source  in  small  lakes  near  our  camp. 

Near  the  river  we  found  a  trail,  the  first  we  had 
seen  so  far  on  our  way  around  Assiniboine.  After 
an  hour  of  walking  we  came  t  number  of  horses, 
and  soon  saw  on  the  other  side  oi  the  river  a  camp 
of  another  party  of  gentlemen,  Messi:^.  Allen  and 
Smith,  who  were  exploring  this  region,  and  had  been 
out  from  Banff  twenty-four  days.  We  forded  the 
river,  and  found  it  a  little  over  our  knees,  but  ^  ery 
swift. 

A  pleasant  half-hour  was  spent  at  this  place  while 
we  enjoyed  their  hospitality  and  related  our  adv 
tures.      Then,  ** hitting  the  trail"  once  more,  we 
walked  rapidly  in  a  supreme  effort  to  reach  camp 


t  J 


; 


96 


^be  'RocMed  ot  Cana^a 


that  night.  The  valley  held  a  straight  course  for 
about  six  miles  and  then  swung  round  to  the  north. 
We  had  turned  three  corners  of  Assiniboine.  Burnt 
timber  now  came  again  in  evidence.  As  we  had 
been  walking  almost  continuously  for  the  past  fifteen 
hours,  we  were  so  fatigued  that  a  very  slight  obstruc- 
tion was  sufficient  to  cause  a  fall,  and  every  few  min- 
utes some  one  of  the  party  would  tumble  headlong 
into  the  burnt  timber.  We  were  too  tired  to  lift 
our  feet  over  roots  and  sticks,  but  there  were  barely 
enough  provisions  to  last  another  meal  and  we  were 
anxious  to  get  as  near  headquarters  as  possible.  At 
ten  o'clock  the  light  in  the  northern  sky  failed  us, 
and  further  progress  being  impossible,  we  selected  a 
fairly  level  place  among  the  charred  logs  for  a  biv- 
ouac. After  a  last  meal  of  bacon  and  hardtack,  we  lay 
on  the  ground  round  a  large  fire.  Thanks  to  a  mild 
night  and  extreme  weariness,  we  slept  soundly  during 
the  few  hours  of  darkness,  but  were  again  on  foot  at 
four  o'clock.  We  marched  into  camp  at  half-past 
six  and  found  the  cooks  building  the  morning  fires 
and  ready  to  prepare  breakfast. 

This  was  without  doubt  the  first  circuit  of  Mt. 
Assiniboine.  By  pedometer,  which,  however,  meas- 
ured every  one  of  the  countless  logs  we  had  jumped 
and  a  thousand  devious  turns,  the  distance  was  fifty- 
one  miles,  and  this  we  had  done  in  less  than  forty- 
eight  hours. 

After  a  day  of  needed  rest,  our  winding  train  of 
horses  left  the  beautiful  site  of  Mt.  Assiniboine  to 


1 


fin  E]:bau0tina  flDarcb 


97 


commence  our  homeward  journey,  and  there  were 
many  unexpressed  feelings  of  regret  at  saying  fare- 
well to  these  scenes  of  beauty  and  grandeur.  We 
followed  the  Simpson  to  the  Vermilion  River  and 
the  latter  to  the  Vermilion  Pass,  and  after  seven  days 
reached  the  Bow  River  at  Castle  Mountain. 


CHAPTER  VI 


1 


ANOTHER  ROUTE  TO  ASSINIBOINE  —  MEADOWS  ON  THE 
CONTINENTAL  DIVIDE  —  A  MIDSUMMER  SNOW-STORM  —  A 
MARCH  THROUGH  FOG  AND  SNOW  —  A  VISION  OF  STRANGE 
MOUNTAINS  —  A  PERILOUS  DESCENT  —  VALLEY  OF  THE 
GNOMES  — A  TREMENDOUS  LANDSLIDE  —  SECOND  CAMP 
AT  ASSINIBOINE  —  A  PARTIAL  ASCENT  —  GENERAL  FORM 
OF  THE  MOUNTAIN  —  FOUR  DIFFERENT  ROUTES  TO  THIS 
REGION 

IN  the  summer  of  1899  1  made  another  visit  to 
Assiniboine.  Messrs.  Henry  G.  Bryant  and 
Louis  J.  Steele  were  anxious  to  see  this  noble 
peak,  and  for  my  own  part,  the  exploration  of  new 
routes  to  and  from  the  mountain  was  a  sufficient 
incentive  to  make  the  trip.  It  was  first  proposed  to 
take  a  Swiss  guide  and  make  some  attempt  to  climb 
Assiniboine,  but  we  were  unable  to  obtain  the  serv- 
ices of  one  for  such  a  length  of  time  as  our  jour- 
ney would  require.  Nevertheless,  we  carried  in  our 
outfit  some  rope  and  three  ice-axes,  with  the  idea 
of  making  at  least  a  reconnaissance  of  its  lower 
slopes  under  our  own  guidance.  Wilson  suggested 
a  shorter  route  than  by  the  Simpson  Pass,  one  that 

should  follow  a  branch  of  Healy's  Creek  and  lead  to 

98 


I 


flDea^ovp0  on  tbe  Continental  Bivibe      99 

the  summit  of  the  continental  divide,  where  there 
is  a  level  and  open  expanse  above  tree-line.  On 
these  elevated  meadows,  it  is  possible  for  horses  to 
travel  with  ease  in  any  direction. 

On  July  23rd,  about  noon  of  the  second  day  out 
from  Banff,  our  party  might  have  been  seen  on  an 
Indian  trail  that  runs  through  a  dark  forest,  over- 
looking a  narrow  valley,  and  commands,  through 
the  trees,  inspiring  views  of  the  height  and  depth 
of  mountain  grandeur.  The  trail  led  persistently 
upward,  sometimes  in  pitches  so  steep  as  to  worry 
our  heavily  burdened  horses,  till  at  length  the 
larches  began  to  appear,  and  gave  a  sure  sign  that 
open  country  was  near.  Presently  the  slope  be- 
came gentle.  Marching  through  open  meadows  and 
between  larch-crowned  ridges,  we  soon  entered  a 
delightful  upland.  We  could  see  the  peaks  of  dis- 
tant mountains  rising  above  the  open  country,  while 
all  the  low  regions  were  hidden  from  view.  An  ex- 
cellent trail  (as  is  always  the  case  when  there  is  no 
urgent  need  for  one)  led  us  gradually  above  the  re- 
gion of  larches  till  we  were  surrounded  by  banks 
of  Alpine  flowers,  and  snow-drifts  lingering  from  a 
stormy  winter.  Far  to  the  south  a  sharp  mountain 
of  striking  outline  rose  above  the  meadowy  expanse. 
It  was  Mt.  Assiniboine. 

We  made  camp  by  a  small  lake  which  was  dot- 
ted with  several  rocky  islands  and  enclosed  by  stern 
cliffs  where  a  few  half-dead  larches  were  standing, 
or  their  ancient  hulks,  bare  of  bark  and  bleached 


t 


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if; 


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Zbe  IRoctilee  of  Canada 


by  the  exposure  of  centuries,  covered  the  ground. 
Bryant,  who  was  familiar  with  the  interior  of  La- 
brador and  Greenland,  said  the  place  recalled  those 
barren  regions.  The  day  of  our  arrival  was  one  of 
brilliant  sunshine,  while  great  cumulus  clouds  were 
suspended  in  the  blue  vault  above.  The  green 
meadows  and  rolling  hills  from  which  we  seemed  to 
command  a  view  of  the  entire  world  were  veritable 
gardens  of  wild-flowers  growing  near  drifts  which 
nearly  gave  us  snow-blindness.  Summer  was  just 
coming  to  this  upper  world,  and  all  nature  was  alive. 
Springs  and  streams  were  carrying  away  the  snow- 
drifts and  turning  to  snow-white  foam  again,  as  they 
fell  over  ledges  to  lower  levels  and  other  meadows. 
Butterflies  floated  across  our  paths,  flies  and  bees 
were  gathering  honey  from  the  flowers  to  scatter  un- 
consciously the  pollen  of  the  anemones  and  the 
heaths,  while  even  a  few  birds  visited  this  high  re- 
gion to  prey  upon  the  innumerable  insects  which 
were  enjoying  their  brief  summer. 

Brief  indeed  it  was,  or  at  least  interrupted  for  a 
time.  Clouds  gathered  in  the  night,  and  the  next 
morning  a  cold  rain  was  falling  and  soon  turned  to 
snow.  The  upper  hills  began  to  whiten,  and  pres- 
ently, the  snow  remained  upon  the  ground  near  our 
upland  camp.  The  storm  increased  and  shrouded 
the  nearer  hills  in  gloom,  shutting  out  our  land- 
marks, for  we  were  to  travel  that  day  in  spite  of  the 
weather.  It  was  cold  and  cheerless  work  for  our 
men  and  us  to  roll  up  our  wet  and  slushy  tents  and 


!i 


■i 


a  nDi^dummer  Sno\)p<>9torm 


101 


keep  our  blankets  dry  while  the  shivering  horses 
were  packed.  Some  were  refractory  and  wild,  so 
that  an  hour  was  wasted  in  patient  and  artful 
effort  in  the  wet  brush  to  catch  two  of  them.  A 
large  fire  was  kept  blazing  to  bring  back  life  and 
warmth  to  our  half-frozen  fingers.  We  should  never 
have  undertaken  a  march  through  a  country  un- 
known to  every  one  of  the  party,  had  we  not  carried 
an  excellent  contour  map  of  the  Topographical  Sur- 
vey, besides  a  compass  and  an  aneroid.  We  were 
like  a  mariner  with  an  excellent  chart,  steering  his 
storm-beaten  ship  through  unknown  dangers. 

At  the  very  commencement  of  our  march,  all 
spread  out  and  tried  to  locate  the  trail,  but  the  snow 
was  now  deep  enough  to  conceal  every  evidence  of 
this  valuable  guide.  Regardless  of  this  setback, 
our  horses  were  assembled  and  a  plan  made  to  pur- 
sue our  way,  relying  on  the  compass  and  aneroid.  It 
fell  upon  me  to  take  the  responsibility  of  leadership, 
so  with  map  in  hand,  1  preceded  at  some  distance 
and  on  foot,  so  that  whenever  a  mistake  was  made 
I  could  run  back  and  direct  the  men  and  horses  else- 
where. Our  route,  according  to  the  map,  lay  for 
several  miles  through  an  undulating  country,  which 
was,  in  fact,  the  very  backbone  of  the  continent. 
On  one  side  was  the  deep  valley  of  the  Simpson, 
three  thousand  feet  below,  and  on  the  other  side, 
the  streams  which  unite  into  Healy's  Creek.  It  soon 
appeared  that  with  every  mountain  concealed  from 
view,  and  every  high  hill,  even  to  the  narrow  circle 


.***;,,. -^'--*^ 


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^be  ItocMee  of  Cana^a 


of  snow-covered  ground  near  us,  shrouded  in  mist 
and  flying  snow,  the  task  of  keeping  a  certain  direc- 
tion through  the  maze  of  ridges  and  impassable 
snow-drifts  was  not  easy.  Several  times  we  found 
ourselves  on  the  crest  of  a  precipice,  overlooking 
the  blackness  of  unknown  depths,  or,  still  more  dis- 
heartening, near  a  lake  or  a  stream  that  looked 
remarkably  like  what  we  had  passed  long  before. 
Crossing  many  ridges  of  moderate  height,  we  were 
often  caught  between  deep  snow-drifts,  when  a  re- 
treat was  necessary,  or  sometimes  a  perilous  passage 
over  the  snow  was  tried,  but  fortunately  these  great 
snow-banks  were  hard  in  the  middle  and  bore  our 
horses  up,  though  they  usually  broke  through  at  the 
edges  where  the  snow  was  only  three  or  four  feet 
in  depth.  Thus  we  marched,  closely  surrounded  on 
every  side  by  a  thick  and  impenetrable  gloom,  in 
which  various  forms  of  strange  hills  and  cliffs  contin- 
uously loomed  before  us,  passed  by,  and  disappeared. 
At  length,  according  to  our  map,  we  should  come 
to  a  ridge  or  pass  about  7800  feet  in  height,  where 
certain  landmarks,  one  of  which  was  a  small  lake, 
would  appear  if  we  were  right  in  our  calculations. 
Hitherto  the  rolling  nature  of  the  country  gave 
no  certain  clue,  nor  offered  determinate  landmarks, 
while  our  altitude  was  nearly  uniform.  Owing  to 
countless  reverses  and  delays,  we  might  have  been 
now  quite  turned  round.  It  was  therefore  with  the 
greatest  interest  that  we  found  ourselves  ascending 
to  the  crest  of  a  ridge,  seemingly  like  one  shown  on 


li 


■^ 


a  VHdion  of  Stranoe  nDountain0        103 

the  map,  for  the  whole  question  would  be  settled 
upon  looking  into  the  basin  beyond. 

Whatever  intere«^t  there  may  have  been  to  learn 
our  whereabouts  was  absorbed  upon  reaching  the 
ridge  crest  by  a  revelation  of  wild  and  gloomy  grand- 
eur that  1  have  never  seen  equalled.  Our  little 
band  of  men  and  horses  were  standing  upon  a 
craggy  ledge,  where  splintered  rockf.,  frost-rent  and 
rough,  rose  through  perpetual  snows,  making  a 
tower  of  observation,  whence  we  looked  out  on  a 
mountain  wilderness.  Shifting  winds  were  sweep- 
ing fog-banks  and  clouds  far  above  the  highest 
trees  of  a  forest-clad  valley,  now  faintly  discernible 
through  the  storm.  Yet  they  were  below  the  crest 
of  our  lofty  pinnacle,  where  our  storm-beaten  band 
of  horses,  steaming  in  moisture,  stood  darkly  out- 
lined against  the  pale  mists.  No  gleam  of  light 
broke  through  the  lurid  sky.  The  monotonous  grey 
of  falling  snow  had  given  place  to  heaving  bands  of 
clouds,  for  the  storm  was  breaking.  Then  slowly 
and  mysteriously  beyond  a  dark  abyss  rose  a  beauti- 
ful vision  of  mountains  clad  in  new  snow.  Their 
bases  rested  on  unsubstantial  fog,  their  tops  were 
partially  concealed  by  clinging  mists,  and  they  were 
apparently  so  far  away  as  to  seem  like  the  highest 
mountains  in  the  world. 

Overawed  by  these  wonders  of  the  breaking 
storm,  the  nature  of  the  immediate  country  was,  for 
a  moment,  forgotten.  Then  we  formed  a  group 
around  the  map,  its  folds  now  broken,  and  the  paper 


"-^n 


wm 


104 


Zbe  'RocMcd  of  (^ana^a 


1  f[ 


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Ir    ■ 


t  ! 


a  mass  of  pulp  from  melted  snow,  and  with  com- 
pass upon  it,  we  hoped  to  prove  that  so  far  no  mis- 
take had  been  made.  Some  of  the  ridges  appeared 
as  they  should,  according  to  the  map,  but  a  certain 
lake  was  missing.  We  knew  about  where  it  should 
be,  but  unfortunately  no  lake  appeared.  Descend- 
ing a  short  distance  to  command  a  better  view,  I 
saw  a  lake  and  shouted  back  the  glad  tidings.  Bry- 
ant and  Steele  s^id  it  was  a  lake  too,  but  they  did  it 
so  as  not  to  hurt  my  feelings.  I  had  been  working 
pretty  hard  for  the  success  of  the  day's  march,  and 
they  wished  to  encourage  me.  What  a  lake  that 
was,  to  be  sure !  It  seemed  about  ten  feet  across. 
Two  hot  days  might  dry  it  away,  or  a  bunch  of 
ponies  could  easily  drink  it  up.  So  we  had  made  a 
huge  blunder,  and  it  was  best  to  go  down  to  the 
woods  and  strike  camp  till  another  day.  A  last  de- 
spairing effort  led  me  to  reconnoitre  several  hundred 
feet  below,  when  1  came  to  an  overhanging  ledge, 
and  with  wild  joy  beheld  a  fine  little  lake,  nestling 
dark  and  blue  on  the  whitened  mountain  side. 

Rapidly  descending,  our  route  lay  along  the  shore 
of  the  coveted  lake,  which  was  located  at  the  level 
of  tree-line  and  was  surrounded  by  the  highest  skir- 
mishers of  the  forest.  Thence  we  marched  through 
long,  rolling  meadows,  in  gentle  descent  to  places 
quite  free  of  snow.  Here  the  trail  appeared,  and  led 
us  ^or  miles  along  the  very  cr(  "t  of  the  continent,  by 
other  lakes  and  streams,  some  flowing  to  our  right 
into  the  Pacific,  others,  to  our  left,  into  the  Atlantic. 


a  perlloua  Beecent 


105 


Here  each  swamp  and  ridge  marked  the  sinuous 
border  line  between  East  and  West ;  between  two 
oceans ;  between  British  Columbia  and  the  North- 
west Territory. 

The  storm  was  rapidly  breaking.    Distant  mount- 
ains were  disclosed,  and  their  snow-clad  slopes  were 
flashed  with  beams  of  sunlight  through  dark  clouds. 
A  sharp-crested  mountain  arose  on  our  right,  and  at 
its  base  was  a  fine  lake  three-quarters  of  a  mile  long. 
Leaving  this  behind,  we  came  to  a  desolate  pass, 
filled  with  great  stones,  snow  covered  ^nd  barren. 
This  was  the  highest  point  of  the  day,  and  then 
ensued  a  continuous  descent  into  the  Simpson  valley. 
Here  we  got  beyond  the  limits  of  our  map  and  like- 
wise of  the  visible  trail.    After  long  and  tedious 
delay,  we  took  our  horses  down  a  slope,  not  at  all 
to  their  liking.    Our  route  lay  through  a  gulch  filled 
with  burnt  timber,  where  the  poor  animals  slipped 
and  rolled  their  packs  over  their  heads  in  a  desperate 
descent  of  two  thousand  feet,  until  at  length  we 
fairly  tumbled  into  the  Simpson  valley.    However, 
an  abundance  of  succulent  grass  for  our  horses,  and 
hot  Scotch  for  us,  soon  mended  things.    We  were 
absolutely  soaked  through  from  our  long  march  in 
the  storm  and  made  a  late  camp  in  burnt  timber. 

The  next  day,  which  was  sunshiny  and  warm, 
found  us  at  noon  near  the  great  ascent  in  the  Simp- 
son valley.  At  the  base  of  this  the  river  gushes  out 
in  springs.  At  the  top  there  is  no  water.  Ascend- 
ing the  steep  slopes  of  this  abrupt  hill,  we  entered 


4 


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Tlbe  'RocMea  of  Cana^a 


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a  valley  that  is  almost  unique  in  these  mountains. 
The  whole  place  for  three  or  four  miles  is  a  succes- 
sion of  weird  hillocks  of  grey  and  whitish  limestone 
of  fantastic  form  and  outline.  No  springs  or  streams 
water  this  "  valley  of  the  gnomes,"  as  we  called  it, 
though  a  struggling  growth  of  small  spruces  adorns  the 
place  and  takes  away  its  barren  aspect.  Our  spread- 
ing line  of  horses  appeared  very  picturesque  as  they 
followed  the  winding  trail,  which  makes  many  little 
turns,  or  sudden  pitches  and  ascents,  among  these 
extraordinary  mounds  and  copses.  The  termination 
is  at  a  small  limestone-girt  lake,  which  is  about  four 
miles  from  our  old  camp  at  Mt.  Assiniboine. 

It  seems  to  me  that  this  strange  valley  has  been 
made  by  a  tremendous  catastrophe  of  nature.  Op- 
posite the  great  pitch  where  the  whole  level  of  the 
valley  suddenly  rises  nearly  a  thousand  feet,  and 
also  opposite  the  little  limestone  lake,  where  the 
character  of  the  country  changes  again,  are  notches 
in  the  mountain  ridge  to  the  north,  and  it  appears  as 
though  a  massive  fragment  of  the  mountain^  three 
miles  long  and  from  three  hundred  to  five  hundred 
feet  thick,  had  scaled  off  and  fallen  into  the  valley. 
Above  this  lake  the  valley  is  lined  with  meadows 
where  deep  streams  flow  over  beds  of  black  gravel 
and  then  sink  away  and  disappear.  These  waters 
probably  pass  under  the  broken  masses  of  limestone 
only  to  reappear  where  the  landslide  ends. 

Mt.  Assiniboine  suddenly  appeared  as  we  reached 
the  lake.    The  distant  peak  was  reflected  in  placid 


Secon5  Camp  at  Bediniboine 


107 


waters,  which  our  thirsty  horses  disturbed  as  they 
drank.  It  was  now  late  afternoon  and  there  would 
have  been  suggestions  of  making  camp  were  we  not 
so  near  Assiniboine.  So  we  plodded  on  through 
weary  miles  of  beautiful  meadow  land  upheaved  in 
countless  hummocks,  very  tiring  to  ourselves  and 
horses.  I  kept  far  ahead  of  our  party,  and  at  night- 
fall lit  a  fire  on  the  site  of  our  old  camp,  shouting 
back  to  their  answering  cries  as  they  drove  our  horses 
at  a  gallop  through  the  woods. 

The  period  of  four  days  which  we  spent  here 
was  full  of  interest  to  every  one  of  our  party,  though 
certain  minor  accidents  had  changed  our  plans.  One 
of  our  ice-axes  had  been  broken  by  a  horse  falling 
against  a  tree,  and  moreover,  my  knapsack,  contain- 
ing all  my  personal  effects  and  various  scientific 
instruments,  had  totally  disappeared.  Campbell, 
our  packer,  went  back  eight  miles  the  next  day,  but 
failed  to  find  it.  **  Did  you  search  carefully  the  long, 
steep  pitch,"  I  inquired.  "  That  is  the  only  place  I 
did  not  go  over,"  said  he,  '' because  I  found  the 
trail  on  the  other  side  and  thought  I  would  take  the 
chance  on  this  one  place."  So  he  and  1  spent 
the  next  day  in  further  search  and  found  my  roll 
upon  the  long  slope,  with  a  small  burnt  tree  caught 
in  the  straps,  showing  how  it  had  been  torn  from  the 
pack. 

While  Bryant  and  Steele  were  climbing  the  neigh- 
bouring mountains,  which  were  familiar  to  me,  I  spent 
the  day  in  photographic  work  near  the  two  summit 


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Zbc  'RocMee  of  Cana^a 


lakes,  with  one  of  which/Lake  Aline,  I  was  particu- 
larly anxious  to  succeed.  This  pretty  sheet  of  water 
is  typical  of  many  mountain  lakes.  They  are  found 
near  tree-line  in  a  setting  of  larch  trees  and  snow- 
drifts, which  latter  remain  until  July.  Fed  by  melting 
snow  and  cold  springs,  their  waters  are  remark- 
ably clear,  often  shallow,  and  usually  not  so  highly 
coloured  as  lakes  of  lower  altitudes.  Their  chief 
beauty  lies  in  their  mountain  surroundings,  their 
comfortable  banks  lined  with  heather  and  larch  trees, 
and  their  sinuously  artistic  shores.  Only  on  the 
stormiest  days  are  they  without  calms  and  reflec- 
tions. The  ripples  on  such  lakes  of  small  extent 
require  but  a  brief  respite  from  wind  to  settle  into 
perfect  calm,  or  to  that  more  delightful  stage,  when 
the  water,  still  tremulous  yet  generally  smooth,  gives 
soft  reflections  of  trees  and  clouds. 

The  day  of  my  return  for  the  lost  knapsack  was 
spent  by  Bryant  and  Steele  in  an  interesting  manner. 
They  made  a  partial  ascent  of  Mt.  Assiniboine,  reach- 
ing a  height  of  ten  thousand  feet,  and  exploring  the 
snow  fields,  out  of  which  rise  the  steep  cliffs  of  the 
highest  peak.  Turning  southward  from  our  camp, 
they  walked  through  open  country  to  the  base  of  the 
mountain,  where,  with  rope  and  the  two  remaining 
ice-axes,  they  commenced  a  slow  ascent  of  the  snow 
and  ice  slope  which  descends  from  the  upper  glacier 
and  rests  on  the  lower.  This  ascent  of  seven  or 
eight  hundred  feet  accomplished  and  a  short  but 
difficult  scramble  over  a  water-worn  cliff,  led  them  to 


>  particu- 
of  water 
ire  found 
id  snow- 
y  melting 
remark- 
»o  highly 
leir  chief 
gs,  their 
rch  trees, 
f  on  the 
id  reflec- 
ill  extent 
gttle  into 
?e,  when 
3th,  gives 

sack  was 

:  manner. 

le,  reach- 

oring  the 

Ts  of  the 

r  camp, 

ise  of  the 

maining 

le  snow 

glacier 

seven  or 

lort  but 

them  to 


i 


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m 


u. 


..^ 


■'1 


a  partial  ascent 


109 


a  wide  expanse  of  unbroken  snow,  which  they 
traversed  southward  for  two  miles  to  the  very  base 
of  Assiniboine's  highest  pinnacle.  A  projecting  spur 
on  an  arete  to  the  west  offered  an  opportunity  to 
reach  easily  a  considerable  altitude  and  command  a 
view  to  the  south.  This  they  accomplished  after 
several  hours'  work  and  attained  a  height  of  ten 
thousand  feet.  The  forenoon  of  that  day  was  nearly 
perfect.  There  were  clouds  and  signs  of  thunder 
toward  midday,  and  in  the  early  afternoon  they  saw 
a  storm  in  the  south,  and  another  in  the  north-west, 
which  seemed  to  approach  the  mountain  rapidly. 
Descending  in  haste,  they  had  just  come  to  the  top 
of  the  last  ice  slope,  when  Steele's  foothold  gave 
way,  and  he  fell,  dragging  Bryant  after  him.  There 
was  but  one  possible  escape  from  a  terrible  fall.  A 
projecting  rock  of  considerable  size  appeared  not  far 
below,  and  Steele,  with  a  skilful  lunge  of  his  ice- 
axe,  swung  round  to  it  and  anchored  himself  in  a 
narrow  crevice,  where  the  snow  had  melted  away. 
No  sooner  had  he  come  to  a  stop  than  Bryant  shot 
over  him  from  above  and  likewise  found  safety. 
Otherwise,  they  would  have  fallen  about  six  hundred 
feet,  with  serious,  if  not  fatal,  fvesults. 

The  storms  which  were  promised  gathered  in  the 
late  afternoon  and  were  followed  by  a  night  of  rain 
and  wind.  "Next  morning  was  one  of  ^oul  and  fickle 
weather.  Showers  of  hail  and  snow  imd  gusts  of 
wind  swept  wildly  through  the  valley  and  shrouded 
the  mountains  from  view.    Mt.  Assiniboine  seems 


1 


no 


Wk  'RocMes  of  Canada 


i  a 


! 


to  be  a  gathering  place  for  storms.  During  our  visit 
in  1894,  we  had  a  week  of  bad  weather  at  this  place, 
in  the  middle  of  July,  and  now  again,  at  the  same 
period  of  the  year,  fresh  snow  covered  the  ground. 

Before  saying  farewell  to  Assiniboine,  some  gen- 
eral remarks  on  this  great  peak  would  be  in  order. 
Mt.  Assiniboine  is  the  culminating  point  of  a  part  of 
the  mountains  on  the  continental  watershed.  Five 
spurs  reach  out  from  the  central  peak  and  cover  an 
area  of  about  thirty  square  miles.  Fourteen  or  fif- 
teen lakes,  small  and  large,  nestle  around  its  imme- 
diate base  and  supply  the  waters  of  three  rivers,  the 
Simpson,  the  Cross,  and  the  Spray.  Above  two  of 
the  valleys  the  mountain  rises  abrimtly  six  thousand 
feet,  but  above  the  one  on  the  norm  the  total  ascent 
is  only  five  thousand  feet.  Every  side  of  this  mount- 
ain is  exceedingly  steep,  the  east  face  being  an  abso- 
lute precipice,  and  the  other  two  having  slopes  that 
average  fifty  degrees.  The  rock  strata  are  nearly 
horizontal,  and  are  eroded  into  many  precipitous 
bands  which  girdle  the  mountain,  and  these,  together 
with  the  disintegrated  limestone  and  frequent  fresh 
snow,  will  make  it  a  difficult  prize  for  the  climber. 
In  my  opinion,  the  south  face  offers  the  best  chance, 
but  it  will  require  heroic  effort  to  bring  horses  into 
that  waste  of  burnt  timber,  where  in  1894  Barrett, 
Peyto,  and  I  made  our  foot  journey.  The  north  side, 
where  the  mountain  has  the  most  striking  appear- 
ance and  has  a  remarkable  resemblance  to  the  Mat- 
terhorn,  will  no  doubt  be  the  point  of  attack.    This 


f 


four  Different  Koutes 


III 


side,  moreover,  offers  the  pleasantest  position  and 
surroundings  for  a  camping-ground. 

Of  the  four  routes  to  Assiniboine  which  are  fa- 
miliar to  me,  the  one  by  which  we  returned  to  Banff 
in  1899  is  the  easiest,  and  at  the  same  time  most 
uninteresting.  A  gap  in  the  mountains  north-east  of 
Mt.  Assiniboine  leads  to  the  headwaters  of  the  Spray 
River,  and  a  rapid  descent  from  the  elevated  plain 
where  our  camp  was  to  the  bottom  of  the  deep  val- 
ley is  the  most  attractive  part  of  the  journey.  On 
the  right,  one  of  the  most  stupendous  cliffs  in  the 
mountains  towered  above  us  as  we  followed  the 
trail  through  the  forest.  Then  after  a  few  miles  we 
came  to  burnt  timber,  which  we  traversed  uninter- 
ruptedly for  two  days.  Part  of  our  route  was  through 
the  White  Man's  Pass,  and  the  white  men  have 
burnt  up  all  the  woods.  However,  the  timber  is  all 
standing  between  Assiniboine  and  the  Spray  lakes, 
so  that  the  travelling  is  excellent. 

From  the  Spray  lakes  to  Canmore  the  miners 
have  kept  the  trail  in  excellent  condition  for  the  sake 
of  the  fishing,  and  in  proof  of  this  we  marched 
twenty  miles  on  the  last  day  of  our  journey. 

The  route  over  the  Simpson  Pass  and  down  the 
river  is  by  far  the  longest  and  hardest  way  and  re- 
quires five  or  six  days'  travel.  By  the  Simpson  and 
up  the  river,  through  the  weird  and  waterless  Gnome 
Valley,  is  shorter,  but  not  advisable.  Our  route 
along  the  high  plateau  region  on  the  summit  of  the 
Rockies  is  the  most  varied  and  interesting  way  to 


119 


TCbe  'Rocliled  of  Canada 


II 

I;) 

if 


Assiniboine,  but  there  is  a  very  difficult  descent  of 
two  thousand  feet  into  the  Simpson  valley. 

There  is  another  possible  way  to  reach  Mt.  Assin- 
iboine from  Banff,  by  following  the  south  fork  of 
Healy's  Creek.  1  saw  a  gap  in  the  mountains  as  we 
were  descending  the  Spray,  near  its  source,  which 
appears  to  offer  a  low  pass  into  the  region  where 
Healy's  Creek  rises.  No  trail  is  known  to  go  up  this 
fork  of  Healy's  Creek  and  I  have  never  been  able  to 
get  any  information  from  the  Indians  about  a  pass. 
Theoretically  this  should  be  the  shortest  possible 
route  to  Mt.  Assiniboine,  and  the  problem  is  a  tempt- 
ing one  to  some  enterprising  explorer  with  a  week 
to  spare. 


,*: 


&. 


CHAPTER  VII 


EFFECT  OF  ENVIRONMENT  ON  CAMP  LIFE— PASSING  OF  OLD 
CUSTOMS  — HOW   TO  COMMENCE  A  CAMPING   TRIP —  THE 
CAMPER  HIS  OWN  GUIDE  — PITCHING  CAMP— THE  WESTERN 
PACKER— BILL  PEYTO— A  CHARACTER  SKETCH— A  DAY  OF 
CAMP  LIFE  — DRIVING  IN  THE  HORSES— BREAKFAST  ON  THE 
FROSTY  GRASS  — SADDLING  UP  AND  PACKING— GLORIES  OF 
EARLY  MORNING— ON  THE  MARCH— FOREST  DEPTHS— OPEN 
MEADOWS    AND    BURNT    TIMBER  — FORDING    TORRENTS  — 
SILENCE  OF  HIGH  ALTITUDES— ORIGIN  AND  DEGENERATION 
OF  INDIAN  TRAILS— AGILITY  OF  PACK-HORSES  —  CHOOSING 
A  CAMP  SITE— THE  INDIAN  CAYUSE— SOME  UNUSUAL  PACK- 
HORSES  —  EVENINGS  ROUND  THE  CAMP-FIRE  —  PEYTO 's  EX- 
PERIENCE ON  THE  PIPESTONE  PASS  — ADVENTURE  OF  TWO 
PROSPECTORS  — STARVATION  IN  THE  WILDERNESS  — WON- 
DERFUL INDIAN  TRAILING 

CAMP  life  in  every  part  of  the  world  is  affected 
by  environment.  The  kind  of  animals  used 
to  carry  the  provisions  and  equipment  de- 
pends on  the  country.  In  the  Rockies  of  Canada  the 
only  animal  suitable  to  convey  the  explorer  and  his 
outfit  through  the  mountain  forests  and  over  the 
swelling  rivers  that  oppose  his  progress  is  the  Indian 
pony.  Mules  cannot  be  used  in  these  mountains  as 
they  are  farther  south  because  they  lack  courage  in 
water,  and  their  small  feet  allow  them  to  sink  deeply 

113 


i'r 


'I  ' 


'l\ 


114 


Zbc  1?ochie0  of  Cana^a 


in  those  swamps  that  the  larger  hoofed  horse  can 
barely  pass  over. 

Many  customs  of  camp  life  in  the  North-west  are 
derived  from  the  fur  traders.  The  earliest  explorers 
and  railroad  builders  have  handed  them  down  to  the 
sportsmen  and  mountain  climbers  of  to-day.  But  a 
new  element  is  being  introduced  with  the  rapid  in- 
crease of  camping  parties  in  the  Rockies  of  Canada. 
While  bacon  and  beans  continue  to  be  the  main- 
stay of  camp  fare,  as  of  right  they  should,  campers 
are  getting  into  the  habit  of  carrying  preserved  fruits 
and  vegetables,  and  such  other  luxuries  as  make  the 
old-timers  wonder  at  the  change  of  customs.  The 
rugged  simplicity  and  semi-starvation  of  old  days  are 
passing.  A  guide  once  told  me  that  upon  a  certain 
occasion  he  called  at  a  wayside  house  for  a  meal. 
Seeing  no  pepper  and  salt  to  season  the  coarse  fare, 
he  ventured  the  polite  suggestion  that  they  would  be 
appreciated,  but  was  considerably  startled  when  the 
old  woman  held  up  her  hands  in  surprise.  **  What 
—  luxuries  ! "  she  cried  ;  "  pepper  and  salt — luxuries, 
and  all  for  two  bits  ?  "  An  instance  of  a  similar  na- 
ture concerns  a  hungry  traveller  who  was  invited  to 
share  a  simple  meal  with  a  lone  prospector.  "Nothing 
appeared  on  the  festive  board  but  a  generous  supply 
of  bacon  and  mustard.  The  unfortunate  guest,  being 
unused  to  the  ways  of  the  country,  declared  that  he 
did  not  eat  bacon.  "Ah,  well,"  said  his  host,  "1 
am  very  sorry.     Help  yourself  to  the  mustard." 

Camp  life  in  the  Canadian  Rockies  now  affords  a 


•fcow  to  Commence  a  (Tamplno  (Trip      115 

much  greater  refinement  of  comfort  and  variety  of 
eatables  than  ten  years  ago,  just  as  camping  out  in 
the  Adirondacks  and  eastern  Canada  suggests  steak 
for  breakfast,  and  even  a  newspaper  not  more  than 
three  days  old. 

The  number  of  camping  parties  that  travel  among 
the  Canadian  Rockies  every  year  is  rapidly  increas- 
ing. This  manner  of  spending  a  vacation  will  soon 
become  more  popular  .^s  the  great  pleasure-grounds 
become  better  known.  About  one-half  the  number 
of  campers  are  sportsmen,  and  the  rest  are  either 
mountain  climbers  or  explorers.  Many,  of  course, 
wander  among  these  wilds  for  the  mere  love  of  na- 
ture, and  for  the  simple  and  healthful  life  in  the 
evergreen  woods,  surrounded  by  mountains,  running 
streams,  or  placid  lakes. 

Imagine,  then,  that  you  intend  to  make  a  trip  into 
the  mountains.  You  must  first  engage  your  packer 
and  cook,  and  procure  saddle-horses  and  a  full  out- 
fit of  blankets,  tents,  and  general  camp  necessaries. 
There  are  agents  at  Banff,  the  general  starting-place 
for  all  expeditions  in  the  eastern  range,  who  will  fur- 
nish you  with  horses,  men,  and  everything  needed 
for  trips  of  whatever  length  or  nature,  and  thus  re- 
lieve you  of  all  responsibility.  One  of  the  most  ex- 
perienced outfitters  is  Tom  Wilson,  who  packed  for 
the  railroad  surveyors  many  years  ago.  During  the 
summer  season  "  Wilson's  "  is  frequently  the  scene 
of  no  little  excitement  when  some  party  is  getting 
ready  to  leave.    Then  you  may  see  ten  or  tifteen 


1 


ii6 


*  (' 


Zbc  1?ocftie0  of  Canada 


[•  « 


wicked-eyed  ponies,  some  in  a  corral  and  the  rest 
tied  to  trees  ready  for  packing.  If  the  horses  are 
making  their  first  trip  for  the  season  there  will  be 
considerable  bucking  and  kicking  before  all  is  ready. 
Several  men  are  seen  bustling  about,  assorting  and 
weighing  the  packs,  and  making  order  out  of  the  pile 
of  blankets,  tents,  and  bags  of  flour  or  bacon.  The 
cayuses  are  saddled  and  cinched  up  one  by  one,  with 
many  a  protesting  bite  and  kick.  The  celebrated 
"diamond  hitch  "  is  used  in  fastening  the  packs,  and 
the  struggling  men  look  picturesque  in  their  old 
clothes  and  sombreros  as  they  tighten  the  ropes, 
bravely  on  the  gentle  horses,  but  rather  gingerly 
when  it  comes  to  a  bucking  bronco. 

A  crowd  of  the  business  men  of  Banff,  who  usually 
take  about  36'?  holidays  every  year,  stands  around  to 
offer  advice  and  watch  the  sport.  Then  the  pict- 
uresque train  of  horses  with  their  wild-looking  drivers 
files  out  through  the  village  streets  under  a  fusillade 
of  snap-shot  cameras  and  the  wondering  gaze  of  new 
arrivals  from  the  east.  But  these  evidences  of  civili- 
sation are  soon  left  behind  ^d  after  a  few  miles  the 
primitive  wilderness  is  entered.  Some  parts  of  the 
mountains  are  more  easily  reached  from  other  points 
than  Banff  Thus  you  leave  the  railroad  at  Castle 
Mountain  for  the  Vermilion  Pass,  at  Laggan  for  the 
Pipestone  and  sources  of  the  Bow,  and  at  Field  for 
the  Ottertail  and  Kicking  Horse  rivers.  In  such  cases 
it  is  easier  to  meet  guides  and  horses  at  these  stations 
and  commence  camp  life  there.    The  maps  of  this 


11 


Zbc  Camper  bia  0u)n  (Bui^e 


117 


* 


\ 


I 


part  of  Canada  give  only  a  rough  idea  of  the  country 
at  best,  while  many  parts  of  the  mountains  are  even 
yet  a  geographical  blank.  Then,  too,  the  maps  are 
on  a  scale  which  does  not  permit  of  much  detail,  so 
that  what  seems  a  short  and  easy  journey  on  the 
map  often  proves  a  struggle  amongst  bewildering 
ranges  of  mountains  when  the  trip  is  commenced. 
Moreover,  there  are  as  yet  no  guides  for  these  mount- 
ains, and  the  explorer  must  depend  in  general  on  his 
own  judgment  in  finding  a  way.  This  is  done  by 
following  the  great  rivers  which,  by  their  relative 
position  and  direction,  are  always  a  certain  clue. 
The  several  ranges  of  the  Rockies  have  an  almost  con- 
stant trend  north  north-west,  and  south  south-east. 
This  fact,  along  with  a  general  knowledge  of  the 
streams  and  lakes,  or  information  picked  up  from  the 
Indians,  is  the  main  reliance  of  the  camper.  Every 
year  the  packers  who  go  on  such  trips  gain  know- 
ledge of  the  passes  and  trails,  so  that  the  day  is 
not  distant  when  there  will  be  efficient  guides  for 
many  of  the  most  interesting  excursions.  However, 
the  necessity  for  self-reliance  and  the  use  of  one's 
own  judgment  in  picking  a  way  through  the  count- 
less obstacles  of  these  mountains  are  great  sources 
of  pleasure. 

The  camper  inexperienced  in  the  methods  of  the 
"North-west,  has  much  to  learn.  It  is  quite  possible 
that  until  the  first  camp  is  made  he  is  quite  ignorant 
of  what  all  those  mysterious  bags  and  boxes  contain 
which  have  been  transported  at  great  expenditure  of 


'•'I 
I' 


m 


It 


ii8 


Zbc  'RocMes  of  Cana^a 


horse-flesh  and  bad  language  a  day's  journey  into  the 
woods.  The  pitching  of  the  first  camp  is  a  revela- 
tion to  the  inexperienced.  After  a  suitable  site 
has  been  chosen,  with  fire-wood  and  water  con- 
veniently near,  and  a  meadow  not  far  away  where 
the  horses  may  find  pasture,  the  men  cut  tent-poles 
and  the  cook  spreads  his  pots  and  pails  round  a 
crackling  fire.  The  pack-saddles  and  blankets  are 
usually  piled  beneath  some  large  tree  and  covered 
with  a  canvas  sheet, — while  another  sheet  covers 
the  bags  of  provisions.  The  cook  soon  has  several 
pots  on  the  fire,  stewing  apples  or  apricots,  making 
hot  water  for  tea  or  cocoa,  or  perhaps  cooking  the 
omnipresent  bean.  Two  boxes,  called  cook  boxes, 
stand  near  at  hand,  and  they  contain  cans  of  con- 
densed milk,  all  the  spices  and  condiments,  the  small 
tins  of  preserves  and  pickles  that  have  been  opened 
or  are  in  constant  use,  as  well  as  the  table  dishes, 
plates,  knives,  forks,  and  spoons,  which  are  no  less 
necessary.  It  may  be  a  week  or  more  before  the 
numerous  small  bags  tucked  away  in  larger  ones 
have  been  sampled. 

While  dinner  is  preparing  and  the  delicious  odour 
of  fry  in;  bacon  blends  with  the  pungent  smoke  of 
the  spruce-wood  fire,  there  is  time  for  a  little  study 
of  our  packers  and  cook.  Who  are  they  and  whence 
did  they  come  ?  Perhaps  no  more  interesting  char- 
acter has  ever  appeared  in  this  region  than  my  old 
packer,  Bill  Peyto.  I  made  my  first  excursion  to 
Assinibpine  with   him   and   have  travelled   several 


i 

f 


I 


Bill   P^vto. 


I 


ti    ;, 


i 


1 1 


■i 


•'i 


h 


'i:i 


Ji 


:  /; 

\ 


■ 


it'. 


1 


i' 


»m  pc^to 


119 


hundred  miles  under  his  guidance.    Bill  is  very  quiet  in 
civilisation,  but  becomes  more  communicative  around 
an  evening  camp-fire,  when  he  delights  to  tell  his 
adventures.    His  has  been  a  roving  life.    The  story  of 
his  battle  with  the  world,  his  escapades  and  suffer- 
ings of  hunger  and  exposure,  not  to  mention  the 
dreams  and  ambitions  of  a  keen  imagination  with 
their   consequent    disappointments,   has  served  to 
entertain  many  an  evening  hour.    Peyto  assumes  a 
wild  and  picturesque  though  somewhat  tattered  at- 
tire.   A  sombrero,  with  a  rakish  tilt  to  one  side,  a 
blue  shirt  set  off  by  a  white  kerchief  (which  may 
have  served  civilisation  for  a  napkin),  and  a  buck- 
skin coat  with  fringed  border,  add  to  his  cowboy 
appearance.    A  heavy  belt  containing  a  row  of  cart- 
ridges, hunting-knife  and  six-shooter,  as  well  as  the 
restless  activity  of  his  wicked  blue  eyes,  give  him  an 
air  of  bravado.    He  usually  wears  two  pairs  of  trou- 
sers, one  over  the  other,  the  outer  pair  about  six 
months  older.    This  was  shown  by  their  dilapidated 
and  faded  state,   hanging,  after  a  week  of  rough 
work  in  burnt  timber,  in  a  tattered  fringe  knee-high. 
Every  once  in  a  while  Peyto  would  give  one  or  two 
nervous  yanks  at  the  fringe  and  tear  off  the  longer 
pieces,  so  that  his  outer  trousers  disappeared  day  by 
day  from  below  upwards.     Part  of  this  was  affecta- 
tion, to  impress  the  tenderfoot,  or  the  "dude,"  as 
he  calls  everyone  who  wears  a  collar.     But  in  spite 
of  this  Peyto  is  one  of  the  most  conscientious  and 
experienced  men  with  horses  that  I  have  ever  known. 


'\:\¥ 


^i 


>■  I 


1 20 


^be  'Rocl^ied  of  Canada 


In  camp,  Peyto  always  goes  down  to  see  his 
horses  once  or  twice  a  day  even  if  they  are  several 
miles  distant,  and  1  have  even  known  him  to  look 
after  them  in  the  depths  of  night  when  he  thought 
they  might  be  in  trouble.  When  the  order  to  march 
has  been  given  the  night  before,  our  horses  are 
in  camp  at  dawn.  Quick  and  cool  in  time  of  real 
danger,  he  has  too  much  anxiety  about  trouble  ahead, 
and  worries  himself  terribly  about  imaginary  evils. 
He  sleeps  with  a  loaded  rifle  and  a  hunting-knife  by 
his  side.  "  Bill,"  said  1,  one  night,  upon  noticing  a 
row  of  formidable  instruments  of  death  near  me, 
"why  in  the  mischief  do  you  have  all  of  those 
shooting-irons  and  things  here  ?  "  "1  tell  you,"  said 
he,  with  an  anxious  look,  "  1  believe  this  country  is 
full  of  grizzlies  ;  1  heard  a  terrible  noise  in  the  woods 
this  afternoon,  and  besides  that,  they  say  the  Koot- 
enay  Indians  have  risen.  They  may  come  into  the 
valley  any  night." 

A  picture  of  a  train  of  horses  crossing  an  angry 
stream  comes  to  my  memory,  and  one  animal  has 
put  his  forefoot  through  the  head-rope  and  fallen 
helpless  as  he  is  swept  away  by  the  torrent.  Sud- 
denly a  man  leaps  from  his  saddle,  and  with  a  sharp 
knife  in  hand,  rushes  out  into  a  foaming  swirl  of 
waters  whence  it  seems  impossible  for  anyone  to 
return  alive.  A  flash  of  steel  in  the  sunlight  shows 
the  rope  has  been  cut,  and  after  a  struggle  the  horse 
regains  the  shore,  dragging  the  man  after.  It  was 
Peyto !    On  another  occasion  a  fast  freight,  coming 


[ 


a  Da^  of  Camp  life 


121 


1 


(1 


suddenly  around  a  curve,  surprised  two  pack-horses 
at  a  few  yards'  distance,  but  Peyto  strucic  one  on 
the  head,  and  seizing  the  rope  of  the  other,  pulled 
the  beast  from  the  rails  as  the  engine  rushed  by, 
while  everyone  else  stood  immovable  in  a  paraly- 
sis of  fear. 

The  best  idea  of  Rocky  Mountain  camp  life  might 
be  had  by  following  in  imagination  the  events  of  an 
ordinary  day.  The  first  sound  that  usually  awakens 
you  is  the  tramping  of  horses,  the  approaching  shouts 
and  curses  of  the  packer,  and  the  tinkle  of  the  bell 
mare's  bell  as  the  ponies  are  driven  to  camp.  The 
packer's  first  duty  is  to  get  up  at  dawn  and  go  after 
the  horses.  They  may  be  miles  away  or  they  may 
have  crossed  a  deep  stream.  After  one  of  the  tamest 
animals  has  been  caught,  the  packer  rides  bareback 
and  drives  the  others  in  at  a  gallop. 

By  this  time  the  imperturbable  early  riser  has 
begun  to  make  life  miserable  for  his  companions, 
though  it  may  be  an  hour  before  breakfast.  There 
is  often  found  in  camping  parties  one  of  those  cranks 
with  an  old  saw  — as  false  as  was  ever  written  — 
about,  "Early  to  bed,"  etc.,  to  back  him  in  his  evil 
ways.  He  is  up  at  the  crack  of  dawn,  even  in  these 
northern  mountains  where  the  sun  shines  eighteen 
hours  a  day.  The  evening  camp-fire,  the  hot  punch, 
and  the  good  stories  of  adventure  are  all  lost  on  him 
that  he  may  prowl  around  alone  in  the  darkness  and 
frost  of  early  morning,  to  the  worriment  of  his 
friends. 


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At  length,  however,  tfe  cook  shouts — "  Break- 
fast is  ready"  —  an  announcement  that  was  heralded 
by  the  sound  of  the  axe,  the  crackling  of  fire-wood 
and  the  sizzling  of  bacon.  A  cold  wash  in  a  neigh- 
bouring stream  or  lake  is  a  good  awakener.  Presently 
everyone  gathers  around  the  "table,"  a  piece  of 
canvas  spread  on  the  frosty  grass  and  flowers.  Por- 
ridge and  milk,  bacon  and  beans,  hot  coffee  and 
bannock  or  camp  bread,  with  possibly  some  kind  of 
stewed  fruit,  compose  the  ordinary  fare.  The  hour 
immediately  after  is  busy  for  all.  While  the  packer 
is  "saddling  up"  the  cook  washes  the  dishes  and 
packs  the  small  articles  in  his  cook  boxes.  Open 
tins  are  provided  with  rough-and-ready  covers  and 
placed  so  their  contents  will  not  spill  while  on  the 
horse's  back.  The  large  bags  are  tied  up  and  every- 
thing gradually  becomes  ready  for  packing.  Mean- 
while, you  roll  up  your  personal  effects,  toilet  articles, 
changes  oi  clothes,  and  make  ready  your  camera 
and  such  scientific  instruments  as  you  carry.  The 
tents,  which  have  been  standing  so  that  the  morning 
sun  and  wind  may  dry  the  dew  or  rain,  come  down 
last  of  all,  and  are  rolled  up  as  side  packs.  Then 
commences  the  real  work  of  packing,  which  after 
the  first  day  or  so  becomes  easier.  The  particular 
pack  for  each  horse  is  known,  and  everything  is 
systematised.  However,  the  constant  change  in  the 
weight  of  bags,  as  provisions  are  used,  requires 
some  little  attention  on  the  part  of  the  packer,  be- 
cause one  of  the  most  important  essentials  of  good 


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(5tortC0  of  £arli?  nDornlna  123 

packing  is  to  have  the  two  side  packs  of  equal 
weight. 

While  the  men  are  at  work  there  is  an  opportu- 
nity to  write  up  notes  of  the  previous  day.    Fre- 
quently the  frost  or  dew  remains  on  the  grass  in 
these  deep  valleys  till  marching  time,  though  the  sun 
may  have  been  shining  for  hours  on  the  bare  rocks 
and  snow  fields  of  the  mountain  tops.    The  slowly 
approaching  rays  creep  over  the  forest,  and  at  length 
the  sun  appears  above  some  mountain  ridge  and 
pours  a  sudden  flood  of  light  upon  the  camp.    1 
on-^e  saw  the  morning  sun  thus  suddenly  strike 
upon  an  upland  flower-garden.    A  moment  before 
the  white  anemones  were  hanging  their  blossoms 
and  shrivelled  leaves  under  the  death-like  touch  of 
frost.    A  sudden  splendour  of  illumination  poured 
over  the  field  as  the  sun  rose  above  a  mountain,  and 
in  a  moment,  as  if  by  magic,  the  frost  crystals  melted 
away  into  pendant  drops  of  heaven's  own  distillation. 
Beads  of  clear  water  dripping  from  leaves  and  tinted 
petals,  made  tremulous  light  flashings  like  the  sparkle 
of  diamonds  and  rubies.    The  calm  of  night  still 
rested  upon  the  field,  and  there  was  not  the  slightest 
air  motion.    But  the  sunlight  was  at  work,  and  in  a 
moment  a  leaf  quivered,  then  another,  and  a  droop- 
ing blossom  made  a  scarcely  sensible  movement. 
This  was  the  commencement  of  a  marvellous  change, 
for  the  hanging  leaves  began  to  straighten,  the  closed 
petals  of  numberless  blossoms  expanded  in  the  sun- 
light, and  in  a  short  time  the  whole  field  of  nature's 


124 


ZlDC  IRoctdcd  of  Canaba 


wild  flowers  was  full  of  motion,  and  every  plant 
was  quivering  and  leaping  toward  the  life-giving 
warmth.  What  an  illustration  of  the  power  of  sun- 
light I  And  what  vitality  these  Alpine  plants  must 
have  to  survive  several  hours  of  frost  in  their  mid- 
summer nights  I 

The  day's  journey  means  many  new  experiences. 
As  the  horses  file  along  the  narrow  trail,  the  mount- 
ains seem  to  move  majestically,  changing  their  out- 
line at  every  new  point  of  observation,  and  showing 
new  glimpses  of  snow  fields  and  rugged  cliffs. 
With  every  great  bend  in  the  valley,  or  upon  each 
pass  ascended,  there  comes  a  long  vista  of  strange 
mountains  into  view.  During  the  five  or  six  hours 
of  the  average  day's  travel,  many  incidents  occur  to 
add  interest  to  the  marvels  of  scenery.  Except 
where  the  trail  is  very  good  the  train  of  horses  is  not 
driven  without  the  exercise  of  patience.  In  bad 
places  their  efforts  are  accelerated  by  torrents  of  pro- 
fanity that  shock  the  tenderfoot.  The  men  claim 
that  pack-horses  will  not  travel  well  unless  roundly 
cursed,  because  it  is  the  only  language  they  under- 
stand. 

The  monotony  of  riding  an  Indian  pony  during 
the  slow  march  of  five  or  six  hours  as  the  poor  beast 
struggles  over  logs  and  through  swampy  places, 
fighting  bull-dog  flies  and  grey  gnats,  is  broken  by 
that  endless  variety  and  change  of  surroundings, 
that  are  a  source  of  delight  in  every  part  of  these 
mountains.    Sometimes  the  trail  leads  for  a  time 


On  tbe  nDarcb  las 

through  deep  forests  where  the  mountains  are  lost 
to  view.     In  the  cool  depths  of  forest  shade  the 
rhododendron  grows,  and  the  moist  and   mossy 
ground  is  often  dotted  with  the  wax-like  blossoms 
of  the  one-flowered  pyrola,  or  the  pretty  violet-like 
butterwort,  with  its  cluster  of  root  leaves  smeared 
with  a  viscid  secretion.    Some  stupid  fool-hen,  a 
species  of  grouse,  is  more  than  likely  to  be  seen  in  a 
tree  near  the  trail,  and  proves  that  her  name  is  de- 
served, when  the  bullets  fly.    She  merely  cranes 
her  neck  in  stupid  wonderment,  till  at  last  her  head 
goes  off,  and  then  there  is  a  great  flapping  of  wings 
but  it  is  too  late.    The  bird  will,  however,  make  a 
fine  dinner  to-night. 

From  silent  forest  depths  the  trail  no  doubt  leads 
alongside    a    noisy    stream,    boulder-strewn,    and 
hemmed  by   willows  and  birch,  or  across   some 
meadow,  gay  with  scarlet  painted-cups,  tiger  lilies 
or   forget-me-nots.      Here   the   horses  take  hasty 
mouthfuls  of  the  rich  grass,  as  they  are  hurried  along 
to  the  other  side.    Perhaps  the  border  of  a  lake  is 
traversed,  and  while  the  splashing  horses  move  will- 
ingly, there  is  time  for  glimpses  of  new  beauty  in 
water  colouring  and  reflected  mountains  and  trees. 
Stretches  of  burnt  timber  break  the  monotony  of 
the  unending  panorama  at  more  or  less  frequent 
intervals.     Burnt  forests,  where  the  trees  still  remain 
standing,  are  easy  to  travel,  but  usually  the  fallen 
trunks  are  crossed  three  or  four  deep,  and  every 
year  adds  to  the  number.    The  procession  comes 


126 


JLbc  'RocMes  of  Cana^a 


to  a  halt  after  a  few  yards  oi  progress  in  such  places, 
and  you  often  wonder  what  is  going  forward,  but 
hear  only  the  sound  of  the  axe  for  answer.  **  We 
were  surrounded,"  says  one  writer,  "by  muskegs, 
burnt  timber,  and  bad  language,"  in  speaking  of 
such  a  place,  and  it  is  impossible  to  travel  far  in  the 
Rockies  without  finding  a  similar  environment. 

The  excitement  of  fording  deep  streams  or  noisy 
torrents  of  the  lower  valleys  is  in  greatest  contrast 
to  quiet  travel  through  some  mountain  pass  where 
an  eternal  silence  reigns.  Here,  perhaps,  there  are 
bare  limestone  cliffs,  guarding  a  turf-lined  pass,  far 
above  the  limits  of  trees.  Scattered  pools  are  col- 
lected in  the  inequalities  of  rocks.  No  sound  of 
bird  or  insect,  of  running  water  or  woodland  breezes, 
breaks  the  oppressive  quiet.  The  tinkling  of  the 
bell  and  the  tramp  of  horses  give  the  only  sign  of 
your  passing  through  these  desolate  high  valleys. 

But  when  trails ,  either  good  or  bad,  penetrate  it, 
how  can  a  country  be  unmapped  or  unknown  ? 
Perhaps  in  the  same  way  that  the  natives  have  made 
foot-paths  through  the  deserts  of  Australia  and  the 
jungles  of  Africa,  the  Indians  of  the  North-west  have 
made  trails  through  all  the  larger  valleys  of  the 
Rockies.  These  trails  which,  for  aught  we  know, 
may  date  from  the  eia  of  primitive  man,  and  so 
represent  some  of  the  oldest  of  human  foot-paths, 
are  used  by  the  Indians  on  their  hunting  expeditions. 
Before  the  coming  of  white  men,  they  were  used  as 
a  means  of  communication  between  the  Kootenay 


InMan  ZttAlB 


127 


as 
ay 


Indians  and  the  tribes  that  inhabit  the  plains,  for  the 
bartering  of  fur,  game,  and  horses.  So  all  the  im- 
portant valleys  and  passes  have  well-marked  trails 
and  the  side  valleys  inferior  ones,  though  it  is  not 
always  easy  to  find  them  or  stay  on  them  when 
found.  A  trail  is  subject  to  constant  degeneration, 
for  several  reasons.  Avalanches  and  snow-slides 
sweep  over  it,  and  sometimes  cover  a  long  stretch 
with  broken  trees  and  great  masses  of  rock.  New 
areas  of  timber  are  burned  over  every  year,  and  the 
charred  trees,  after  standing  a  few  years,  begin  to 
yield  to  the  wind  and  storms  and  fall  across  the  trail. 
Rapid  mountain  streams  often  change  their  courses, 
cutting  away  new  banks  and  undermining  many 
places  where  trails  were  made.  Even  in  the  prime- 
val forest  the  underbrush  has  a  constant  tendency 
to  choke  these  pathways,  and  aged  monarchs  of  the 
forest  die  and  fall  across  them.  No  one  ever  cuts  a 
tree,  if  there  is  a  way  around,  because  every  one 
assumes,  very  selfishly,  that  he  may  never  come  that 
way  again.  Thus  the  Indian  trail  is  a  narrow  path- 
way, worn  by  the  hoofs  of  horses,  clearly  marked  in 
open  meadows  or  deep,  mossy  forests,  but  ever 
winding  and  retreating  to  avoid  a  multitude  of 
obstacles  and  usually  disappearing  altogether  when 
most  needed,  and  some  steep  cliff  or  avalanche  track 
or  burnt  timber  seems  to  block  the  way. 

A  day's  march  is  often  attended  by  incidents 
that  give  zest  to  the  work  of  making  progress. 
Bucking  ponies  try  to  rid  themselves  of  their  packs 


n 

» 

<^ 

1 

128 


Sbe  KocMe0  of  Cana^a 


or  riders.  Packs  come  loose  and  must  be  adjusted, 
and  sometimes  a  panic  is  caused  among  the  horses 
when  a  hornet's  nest  is  disturbed.  Horses  some- 
times get  beyond  their  depth  in  crossing  rivers,  fall 
into  muskegs  up  to  their  ears,  or  break  a  leg  in  fallen 
timber.  Familiarity  breeds  no  contempt  for  these 
agile  Indian  ponies,  and  new  difficulties  only  cause 
renewed  admiration  of  their  wonderful  skill,  in  jump- 
ing logs  with  heavy  packs  on  their  backs,  threading 
the  obscure  trails  and  pitfalls  of  burnt  timber,  or 
fording  the  icy  rapids  of  mountain  streams. 

The  length  of  the  march  necessarily  depends  on 
various  circumstances,  though  "camp  rules"  say 
that  six  hours  of  trail  work  is  all  that  should  be  done 
in  one  day.  There  must  be  a  swamp  or  meadow 
not  far  distant,  where  the  horses  may  pasture,  with 
fire-wood  and  water  near  the  camp  site.  Happily 
the  two  latter  requisites  are  almost  invariably  pres- 
ent in  the  Rockies  of  Canada.  First  the  horses  are 
tied  to  trees,  quickly  unpacked,  and  sent  off  to  their 
well-earned  liberty.  While  they  are  rolling  on  the 
grass,  joyful  that  another  day's  work  is  ended,  the 
cook  builds  a  fire,  and  soon  has  hot  water  for  tea 
and  other  refreshments,  of  which  the  details  are 
unimportant,  if  things  are  served  quickly,  and  many 
times.  What  is  the  use  of  putting  a  man  in  a  glass 
cage,  and  taking  his  temperature  and  weight  to  find 
the  heat-  and  energy-value  of  various  foods  ?  Let 
him  come  to  the  mountains,  walking  and  climbing 
ten  or  twelve  hours  a  day,  and  observe  for  himself. 


adjusted, 
le  horses 
es  some- 
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I  in  fallen 
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threading 
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Happily 
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climbing 

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Cboo0ina  a  Camp  Site 


129 


After  a  hearty  breakfast  of  oatmeal  (a  splendid  food 
for  the  sedentary)  he  will  be  ravenously  hungry  in 
two  hours,  of  cornmeal,  after  three  hours,  of  bacon 
and  bread,  in  four  or  five  hours,  while  pork  and 
beans  will  sustain  him  from  six  to  ten  hours  and 
give  the  utmost  physical  buoyancy  and  strength. 
Tea  has  the  greatest  stimulating  effect  on  utterly 
weary  muscles  and  nerves.  Coffee,  however,  is 
better  in  cold  weather,  and  cocoa  for  an  evening 
drink  around  the  camp-fire.  In  my  opinion  alco- 
holic stimulants  should  be  used  in  camp  life  only  for 
their  reviving  effect  after  exposure  to  cold  and 
exertion,  and  never  before  or  during  any  physical 
undertaking. 

One  of  the  chief  essentials  of  a  camp,  after  the 
question  of  wood  and  water  has  been  settled,  is  a 
piece  of  level  ground.  In  certain  meadows  and 
open  places,  the  rich  grass  will  afford  sufficient  bed- 
ding on  which  to  spread  the  blankets,  but  usually 
some  bushes  or  stones  must  be  cleared  away,  and 
balsam  boughs  laid  on  the  ground,  to  give  the  re- 
quired comfort.  The  cook  boxes,  extra  blankets, 
cameras,  scientific  instruments,  and  small  articles  are 
tucked  away  in  the  tents,  where  rain  cannot  injure 
them,  but  most  of  the  provisions  are  piled  under 
some  tree  and  protected  by  a  large  canvas  cover, 
along  with  the  pack-saddles,  cinch  ropes,  and  other 
camp  necessaries. 

No  one  can  travel  far  on  a  camping  expedition 
without  feeling  an  interest  in  the  Indian  pony,  upon 


!i 


130 


Zbc  1?ocMe6  of  Cana^a 


rf 


1 

Li 

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which  so  much  depends.  The  Indian  pony,  or 
cayuse,  probably  owes  its  origin  to  a  cross  between 
the  mustang  and  the  horses  introduced  by  the 
Spaniards  in  the  conquest  of  Mexico.  They  are 
small  horses  with  very  great  endurance  and  ability, 
combined  with  sufficient  strength  for  all  needful 
purposes.  Some  of  them  have  ''glass  eyes,"  or  a 
colourless  condition  of  the  retina,  supposed  to  be 
the  result  of  too  much  in-breeding.  They  are  raised 
on  the  plains  chiefly  by  the  Indians,  and  their  only 
food  throughout  their  days  is  grass.  In  winter,  most 
of  the  horses  are  driven  from  the  mountains  and  pas- 
tured among  the  foothills,  where  they  paw  away  the 
snow  and  find  abundant  nourishment  in  the  "  bunch 
grass."  The  hardest  time  comes  at  the  end  of  win- 
ter, when  the  snow  melts  and  freezes  alternately. 
Then  the  ponies  must  starve  unless  they  are  driven 
in  and  fed  by  their  owners. 

There  is  as  much  diversity  of  temperament  among 
horses  as  among  men.  Some  are  nervous  and  intelli- 
gent, while  others  are  stupid  and  obstinate.  Horses 
do  not  seem  to  do  as  much  independent  thinking  as 
mules,  and  are  slower  in  many  feats  of  intellect.  A 
mule  may  be  taught  to  travel  miles  alone  over  a  beaten 
route,  but  a  horse  will  stop  and  eat  grass  at  the  first 
meadow.  They  say  a  mule  will  walk  over  a  trestle 
bridge  like  a  dog,  while  a  horse  will  invariably  fall 
through  before  he  has  gone  ten  yards.  But  in  swamps 
and  deep  water,  the  horse  is  far  superior.  Almost 
all  cayuses  are  liable  to  buck  and  kick  after  a  long 


Some  mnudual  pacR'1}or0e0 


131 


period  of  rest.  These  bad  habits  may  have  de- 
scended from  their  primitive  ancestors,  in  efforts  to 
throw  off  wolves  or  panthers,  but  are  now  used 
with  effect  on  riders  and  packs.  I  have  seen  a  horse 
stand  up  and  fight  with  his  forefeet,  and  an  old 
bronco-buster  once  told  me  that  he  had  had  horses 
rush  upon  him  and  try  to  kill  him  by  diting  and 
striking. 

Two  of  the  most  interesting  pack-horses  that  I 
have  ever  known  are  the  "Pinto "and  the  "Bay." 
The  Pinto  is  a  well-formed,  graceful  pony,  with  a 
light  chestnut  coat  and  irregular  white  patches  on  his 
flanks  and  chest.  He  has  a  long,  beautiful  tail  and 
well-formed  head,  but  he  is  so  quick  and  nervous 
that  1  have  never  yet  succeeded  in  getting  a  good  pho- 
tograph of  him.  This  Pinto  is  tame  and  affectionate, 
but  afraid  of  any  sudden  movement,  because,  no 
doubt,  some  former  owner  had  abused  him.  The 
Pinto  is  wonderfully  intelligent,  and  as  Peyto  says, 
"knows  more  than  anyone  else  about  the  trails." 
Sometimes  we  placed  Pinto  ahead  and  let  him  lead 
the  procession  for  hours.  Anyone  seeing  such  a  feat 
for  the  first  time  would  find  it  quite  incomprehensible. 
Once  Pinto,  when  tlius  leading,  took  a  small  branch 
trail  and  left  the  well-defined  open  path.  "You  are 
wrong  for  once,  Pinto,  and  have  been  caught  napping 
at  last,"  said  I  to  myself.  While  the  procession 
moved  on,  1  followed  the  main  trail,  and  soon  came 
to  a  tree  that  had  fallen  across  the  trail  and  had  caught 
about  four  feet  from   the  ground.     While  I  was 


J 


J. 


133 


^be  "RocMed  of  Canaba 


examining  this  Pinto  was  about  a  quarter  of  a  mile 
ahead,  once  more  on  the  main  trail,  having  gone 
round  this  unseen  obstacle,  unknown  to  any  of  us, 
but  probably  remembered  by  him  from  some  previ- 
ous year.  The  Bay  is  Pinto's  inseparable  companion 
and  friend.  The  two  horses  are  always  at  the  head 
of  the  line,  and  rarely  allow  any  others  to  precede. 
The  Bay  defers  only  to  Pinto's  unusual  intelligence 
and  gives  first  place  to  him.  Each  of  these  horses 
carries  two  hundred  and  fifty  or  three  hundred  pounds 
on  his  back,  while  the  smaller  animals  struggle  with 
less  by  an  hundredweight.  I  once  saw  the  Bay 
clear  a  log  three  feet  and  ten  inches  from  the  ground, 
of  his  own  will,  under  a  heavy  pack.  These  intelli- 
gent animals  know  all  the  obstacles  of  the  trail,  what 
two  trees  their  pack  will  go  between,  what  low 
branches  they  cannot  pass  under,  and  at  a  gentle 
word  they  hurry  along,  where  an  ordinary  cayuse 
will  stop  to  feed,  or  when  shouted  at,  will  run  off 
into  the  bush.  The  Bay  is  the  tamest  animal  1  have 
ever  known,  and  often  loiters  about  the  camp  and 
pokes  his  head  over  one's  shoulder  as  a  gentle  hint 
for  a  taste  of  salt  or  sugar.  His  feet  are  never  insulted 
with  hobbles,  nor  his  head  with  a  rope,  for  you  may 
walk  up  to  him  any  time  in  the  pasture  and  place 
your  arm  round  his  great  neck. 

Old  Denny  is  a  horse  of  another  colour,  a  shaggy, 
thick-set  cayuse,  with  a  long  coat  and  trailing  fet- 
locks. No  ambition  ever  stirs  him  to  be  in  front,  but 
on  the  contrary,  Denny  never  allows  any  animal  to 


i 


A 


®I^  S)enni? 


133 


be  behind  him,  except  the  saddle-horse  of  some 
swearing  packer  who  is  hunting  him  along.  Denny 
was  born  with  an  unconquerable  tendency  to  be 
slow,  and  though  you  shout  till  you  are  hoarse,  old 
Denny  pursues  his  dignified  way  regardless.  The 
result  is  that  this  singular  animal  always  gets  behind 
the  procession,  which  he  follows  at  his  own  sweet 
will.  1  have  seen  old  Denny  come  strolling  into  camp 
half  an  hour  after  the  other  horses  were  unpacked. 
However,  he  is  a  conscientious  old  fellow,  and  never 
kicks  or  bucks  or  crushes  his  pack  against  trees.  So 
he  was  selected  to  carry  the  most  perishable  packs, 
and  has  safely  transported  my  valuable  cameras  hun- 
dreds of  miles  through  the  mountains.  Peyto  told 
me  that  Denny  once  had  a  brute  for  a  master,  who 
used  to  beat  him  terribly  with  a  stick,  till  the  poor 
animal  would  fall  to  the  ground.  After  that  he  was 
taken  to  the  coal  mines  at  Anthracite,  near  Banff.  In 
the  perpetual  darkness,  however,  Denny  refused  to 
work,  in  spite  of  the  beatings  and  horrible  cruelty 
that  the  miners  practice  on  their  horses.  He  next 
appeared  as  a  pack-horse,  and  under  the  influence  of 
kind  treatment,  became  one  of  the  tamest  of  the 
horses.  Besides  saft  and  sugar,  which  nearly  all 
horses  like  after  a  few  tastes,  he  would  eat  bread, 
flour  '^nd  even  corn-meal,  which,  strange  to  say, 
these  Western  ponies  do  not  consider  proper  food  for 
horses. 

No  matter  how  wild  your  horses  may  be  at  the 
commencement  of  the  journey,  they  will  become 


M 


' 


^^■^ 


! 


l!     i 
1/ 


1 


f      ■ 


[il 


134 


Zbc  'Rockies  ot  Cana^a 


gentle  and  tame  with  kind  treatment.  A  little  salt 
every  morning  for  a  week  will  gain  their  confidence, 
and  will  save,  in  many  ways,  far  more  than  the 
outlay. 

The  afternoon  after  a  day's  march  may  be  occu- 
pied in  short  excursions  to  adjacent  valleys  or  points 
of  interest  in  the  neighbourhood,  so  that  the  period 
after  dinner,  when  the  long  day  ends  and  the  camp- 
fire  lights  up  the  forest,  is  the  best  time  for  stories  of 
adventure  and  for  sociability.  The  best  camp-fire  is, 
in  my  opinion,  a  big  one,  with  great  dry  logs  that 
crack  and  blaze  brightly  and  make  but  little  smoke. 
The  Indians  laugh  at  us  and  say,  '*  White  man  m.ake 
big  fire— sit  far  off.  Indian  make  little  fire,— sit  close" 
— right  over  it,  in  fact,  with  a  few  sticks,  like  a  pile  of 
jack-straws — for  a  fire.  The  advantages  are  that  there 
is  but  little  smoke  and  not  much  of  a  wood-pile  to 
cut.  Of  course  there  is  a  limit  to  size,  and  I  have 
seen  fires  where  you  had  to  make  toast  or  broil  a 
grouse  on  a  twenty-foot  pole.  A  camp-fire  on  a  dark 
night  always  seems  most  cheerful  in  a  deep  forest, 
when  the  cheery  sparks  soar  away  to  meet  the  stars 
and  a  ruddy  glow  illuminates  the  sombre  trees  and 
picturesque  figures  grouped  before  the  tents. 

As  the  chill  of  night  came  on,  we  often  had  a 
light  supper,  or  in  any  event  made  a  pot  of  hot  cocoa, 
and  under  the  cheering  influence  of  this,  Peyto  used 
to  harangue  us  on  his  adventures.  With  a  jerk, 
sailor-fashion,  at  his  trousers,  and  a  playful  kick  at 
the  fire,  1  can  imagine  him,  standing  in  picturesque 


I 

■■>. 


1 


OUR  CAMP  AT  MORAINE  LAKE 


I'.; 


i 


tt'-t, 


M 


!M 


I 

fi'f 
til 


pei?to'0  £j:perience 


»35 


attitude  to  warm  himself.  "  Well,"  says  he,  "  did  I 
ever  tell  you  about  my  journey  up  the  Pipestone  ?  " 
To  our  negative  replies,  he  gives  the  story.  "  Some 
years  ago  a  fellow  by  the  name  of  S.,  and  I,  thought 
we  would  put  in  the  winter  on  the  Saskatchewan 
and  trap  marten.  I  had  got  three  hundred  dollars 
ahead,  the  only  luck  I  ever  had,  and  blew  it  all  in  on 
an  outfit.  You  see  we  had  a  pretty  big  grub-pile 
besides  a  lot  of  traps,  and  it  took  a  good  many  horses 
to  tote  it  all.  I  thought  we  would  make  a  pretty 
good  haul  by  the  way  we  sized  up  the  country  when 
!  was  there  two  years  before.  So  we  started  from 
Laggan  and  struck  for  the  head  of  the  Pipestone.  It 
was  late  in  October,  and  there  was  some  snow  in 
the  valley,  but  we  could  n't  savey  any  such  snow- 
drifts as  we  ran  into  near  the  summit.  You  know 
they  say  the  Pipestone  Pass  is  the  highest  in  the 
mountains,  and  we  were  a  long  way  above  timber, 
when  it  came  on  to  snow  and  blow  worse  than  any- 
thing I  ever  saw  before.  The  snow  was  five  feet 
deep,  and  as  it  was  our  first  time  through,  we  did 
not  know  that  we  could  ever  reach  the  pass.  I  got 
out  the  shovel  and  cut  a  path  for  the  horses,  but  I 
give  you  my  word,  before  we  had  gone  a  hundred 
y.irds,  the  whole  thing  was  blown  full  of  snow  again. 
I  threw  down  the  shovel  and  we  started  for  Laggan, 
but  by  this  time  you  could  not  see  anything  for  the 
snow  and  wind.  Neither  of  us  could  tell  where  the 
trail  was.  I  was  riding  Pinto,  and  says  I  to  myself, 
1  guess  the  cayuse  knows  where  we  are  better  than  I 


i 


1 

i 

'  1 

h 

:              1 
i 

i 

j 

f 

[ 

a    :. 

!■ 

■ 

1 

1 

136 


Zbc  VocMee  of  CalUl^a 


6       '.I 


I  K' 


do,'  so  I  let  him  have  his  head  and  never  said  a 
word,  and  you  may  not  believe  it,  but  that  horse 
took  us  right  back  to  Laggan  in  two  days." 

**  Some  fellows  did  n't  have  such  luck  as  you  did. 
Bill,"  said  one  of  our  men,  "for  an  old  prospector  told 
me  he  was  coming  down  the  Canoe  River,  and  was 
somewhere  near  the  Big  Bend  of  the  Columbia,  1 
think  it  was,  when  he  ran  across  an  old  camp,  with 
everything  lying  around  loose,  and  three  skeletons 
on  the  ground." 

This  recalled  the  story  of  an  expedition  that  went 
out  into  the  mountains  and  was  never  heard  of  again, 
men  and  horses  having  apparently  perished  together. 
Nothing  less  than  a  great  snow-slide  could  so  com- 
pletely have  annihilated  an  entire  party. 

One  of  the  most  exciting  incidents  of  adventure 
in  these  mountains  occurred  in  the  summer  of  1896. 
Two  prospectors,  named  Temple  and  Smith,  started 
from  Canmore  by  way  of  the  White  Man's  Pass  to 
reach  the  Kootenay  country.  Having  come  to  the 
gorge  of  the  Vermilion  River,  their  two  pack-horses, 
overloaded  and  exhausted  by  long  marches,  could 
proceed  no  farther.  As  a  last  effort,  they  built  a 
raft,  and  with  their  entire  outfit  commenced  a  voyage 
down  the  river,  after  abandoning  the  poor  horses  to 
their  fate.  It  was  not  long  before  the  raft  came  to 
very  rough  water  and  was  wrecked  in  the  rapids  of 
the  treacherous  stream.  The  men  reached  the  shore 
after  the  greatest  effort,  but,  unfortunately,  each 
on  opposite  sides  of  the  river.    After  considerable 


B^venture  of  Zy»o  proepectore 


137 


shouting,  one  to  the  other,  neither  would  consent  to 
attempt  to  cross  it,  and  the  two  separated  in  the  heart 
of  the  wilderness,  having  saved  neither  food  nor 
blankets  from  the  wreck,  nor  firearms  to  procure 
game.  Leaving  Temple  to  proceed  west,  Smith  en- 
deavoured to  retrace  his  steps  and  find  the  horses, 
but  he  soon  lost  all  idea  of  locality  and  direction. 
He  wandered  ceaselessly  through  the  forests,  slowly 
dying  of  starvation,  though  after  several  days  he 
managed  to  kill  a  single  grouse,  which  he  ate  raw. 
At  length  after  eleven  days,  overcome  with  weak- 
ness, his  courage  failed,  and  he  lay  down  to  die. 
Just  then  he  was  startled  by  the  loud  whistle  of  a 
railroad  engine,  a  sound  that  restored  for  a  time  his 
hope  and  strength.  He  came  to  a  large  river,  which 
was  in  fact  the  Bow,  and  on  the  farther  side  saw 
some  section  men  at  work  on  the  railroad.  They 
came  over  in  a  boat  in  answer  to  his  shouts  and  res- 
cued him  from  death. 

At  Banff,  where  he  was  taken  to  recover  his 
strength,  he  related  the  story  of  his  sufferings  and  of 
his  lost  companion,  about  whom  nothing  had  been 
heard.  A  relief  party  was  hastily  organised,  consist- 
ing of  the  Rev.  William  Black  of  Banff,  and  a  Stony 
Indian  (our  old  friend)  William  Twin.  William,  with 
that  wonderful  power  that  the  Indians  alone  seem  to 
possess,  of  observing  the  faintest  signs,  followed  the 
track  of  the  rescued  prospector  up  Healy's  Creek, 
over  the  Simpson  Pass  to  the  Vermilion  River,  and 
thence  to  the  place  where  the  fatal  raft  had  been 


i 


f 


V 


138 


ITbe  1{ocMe0  of  Canada 


wrecked.  One  of  the  horses  was  found  here,  and 
then,  crossing  the  river,  he  took  up  the  trail  of  the 
other  prospector.  With  marvellous  skill  he  led  the 
way,  even  where  the  hard  ground  or  solid  rock  pre- 
served no  apparent  footmarks.  In  one  place  he 
crossed  a  river  on  a  log-jam,  saying,  as  he  pointed  to 
the  smooth  logs :  "  Me  see  him  trail  —  he  go  here  — 
he  go  here,"  and  in  fact  footprints  appeared  in  the 
sand  on  the  other  side.  The  trail  led  them  in  two  days 
more  to  the  stage  road  on  the  Columbia,  and  they  sur- 
mised that  Temple  had  reached  safety,  as  indeed 
was  the  case.  Strangely  enough,  he  had  not  men- 
tioned their  adventure  or  told  about  leaving  his  com- 
panion, who  came  so  near  perishing,  and  only  escaped 
death  by  the  merest  chance. 


R' 


S  I,  ■        .   ! 


CHAPTER  VIII 


THE  WAPUTEHK  RANGE —  BURNT  TIMBER  OF  THE  BOW 
VALLEY  —  RELICS  OF  OLD  TIMES  — THE  LOWER  BOW 
LAKE  — MUSKEGS  — THE  COLD  WATER  LAKE  —  DliSCRIP- 
TION  OF  ITS  SHORES  — THE  GREAT  BOW  GLACIER  — 
APPROACH  TO  THE  LITTLE  FORK  PASS  —  INSPIRING 
MOUNTAIN  SCENERY  — A  SURVEYOR'S  MISTAKE 

THE  Summit  Range  of  the  Rocky  Mountains  as 
it  extends  north  from  the  deep  and  narrow 
valley  of  the  Kicking  Horse  Pass,  has  a  spe- 
cial name,  the  Waputehk  Range,  derived  from  a 
word  which,  in  the  language  of  the  Stony  Indians, 
leans  the  White  Goat.  From  the  top  of  a  mount- 
ain in  this  range  the  climber  has  on  every  side  a  vast 
extent  of  ridges.  In  some  places  they  rise  into 
peaks  of  great  height,  and  in  others  they  subdivide 
into  numerous  spurs  of  lesser  altitude.  As  usual 
throughout  the  Rockies,  each  ridge  has  a  precipitous 
escarpment  on  the  east,  and  a  more  gentle  slope  on 
the  west.  No  passes  cross  the  range  between  the 
Kicking  Horse  Pass,  used  by  the  railroad,  and  the 
Howse  Pass,  thirty  miles  to  the  north.  Then  an- 
other long  interval  noith wards  to  the  Athabasca 
Pass  is  said  by  the  Indians  to  offer  no  route  avail- 
able for  horses.     The  ridges  and  peaks  of  these 

139 


m 


Ml 


f 
i 


1 

) 


r 


ii 


tn 


•*.  >.! 


i-lo 


140 


ZTbe  'RocMcd  of  Canada 


mountains  reach  a  height  of  between  ten  and  twelve 
thousand  feet. 

Among  them  there  are  many  large  snow  fields, 
some  of  which  are  continuous  for  ten  or  fifteen  miles 
or  more.  This  results  from  a  very  heavy  snowfall, 
as  the  westerly  storms  sweep  over  the  lofty  and  con- 
tinuous range,  and  also  from  the  existence  of  exten- 
sive level  benches  and  elevated  regions.  From  these 
snow  fields  glaciers  descend  into  the  valleys  and 
carry  away  the  surplus  precipitation  from  the  higher 
altitudes.  The  Bow  River  or  south  branch  of  the 
great  Saskatchewan  takes  its  source  in  two  lakes 
which  lie  among  the  valleys  of  the  eastern  side  of 
this  interesting  range.  1  had  learned  about  the  won- 
ders of  this  region  from  Tom  Wilson,  and  my  inter- 
est to  see  them  was  further  increased  by  the  fact 
that  few,  if  any,  tourists  had  as  yet  been  to  the 
Bow  lakes. 

1  left  Laggan  on  the  fourteenth  of  August,  1895, 
with  Bill  Peyto,  Harry  Lang,  and  five  horses  in  our 
outfit.  The  less  said  about  the  first  eleven  or  twelve 
miles  the  better.  It  is  nothing  but  a  continuous 
burnt  forest  where  much  of  the  timber  has  fallen 
and  become  inextricably  crossed,  and  where  the  trail, 
when  most  needed,  invariably  disappears  under  a 
pile  of  logs.  Though  1  had  had  two  men  cutting 
out  the  trail  for  several  days,  it  required  two  days' 
march  to  reach  the  first  Bow  Lake,  only  a  little  more 
than  ten  miles  in  a  straight  line  from  Laggan. 

The  trail  leaves  Laggan  and  winds  through  burnt 


and  twelve 

snow  fields, 
fifteen  miles 
vy  snowfall, 
)fty  andcon- 
ce  of  exten- 
From  these 
valleys  and 
n  the  higher 
ranch  of  the 
n  two  lakes 
item  side  of 
3ut  the  won- 
ind  my  inter- 
[  by  the  fact 
been  to  the 

August,  1895, 
horses  in  our 
/en  or  twelve 
a  continuous 
)er  has  fallen 
here  the  trail, 
ears  under  a 
men  cutting 
ed  two  days' 
/  a  little  more 
aggan. 
through  burnt 


Mount  JSalfour. 


.Ml 


U^l 


t  < 


\ 


§ 


j  Sf  t   f 

il  I 

S: 


i, 


I 


(• 


I 


M 
ll  ^ 

V'h 


I 


LH 


i 


^1 

1  ! 


'-'1 


!! 


'#j 


1    : 


II 


I', 


iy 


i 


, ', 


I     / 


'"'mH-'.y  "inmm 


1?elic0  of  Qlb  ZlmcB 


141 


woods  on  the  east  side  of  the  Bow.  This  valley 
was  once  a  proposed  route  for  the  railroad  which 
should  cross  the  range  by  the  Howse  Pass.  1  be- 
lieve the  vyork  progressed  so  far  as  the  making  of  a 
general  survey  to  that  pass,  and  building  a  tote-road 
about  twenty  miles  up  the  Bow.  The  trail,  which 
is  the  worst  in  the  mountains,  follows  the  old  road 
part  of  the  time,  and  then  wanders  off  into  a  track- 
less waste  of  burnt  timber,  for  among  other  things, 
the  railroad  men,  no  doubt,  set  the  woods  on  fire. 
The  date  of  the  fire  can  be  pretty  accurately  de- 
termined by  the  age  of  the  growing  trees  which 
have  since  sprung  up.  There  is  very  little  left  of 
the  old  tote-road,  and  it  is  only  evident  in  corduroy 
places  and  old  tumbled-down  bridges  over  streams, 
or  the  relics  of  former  camps  where  wooden  boxes, 
tin  cans,  and  rusty  iron  stoves  have  outlived  storms 
and  weather  to  bear  silent  witness  to  the  glories  of 
the  past. 

We  had  an  excellent  camp  by  the  river,  where 
we  caught  all  the  trout  that  we  could  eat.  The 
river  there  is  less  than  one-half  its  size  at  Laggan. 
The  next  day  Peyto  and  1  visited  the  lake.  We 
caught  the  Bay,  and  made  the  intelligent  old  horse 
carry  us  both  at  once  across  the  river  without  saddle 
or  bridle.  We  then  scrambled  through  the  woods, 
and  over  the  gullies  of  former  stream  channels  to 
the  lake.  One  branch  of  the  Bow  flows  into  the 
lake  and  comes  out  a  quarter  of  a  mile  below,  while 
the  other  continues  straight  on  at  some  distance. 


M    ; 


'/H 


.1 

'I'  I 


H 

i 


ii' 


M 


^^^■'  41  i# 


i!! 


142 


Vbe  1?ocliie0  of  Cana^a 


We  followed  the  west  shore  of  the  lake,  which  is 
about  four  miles  long,  and  after  a  hard  walk,  came 
to  the  other  end  about  noon.  At  the  upper  end, 
there  is  a  flat  gravel  delta,  sparsely  adorned  with 
purple  fireweed  and  scattered  bushes,  the  seeds  of 
which  must  have  come  down  in  former  floods. 
The  delta  has  a  straight  edge  across  the  lake. 
The  muddy  stream  from  the  upper  part  of  the  val- 
ley apparently  changes  its  course  from  time  to  time, 
and  so  preserves  a  level  gravel  wash.  We  traversed 
the  delta  and  continued  up  the  valley  to  a  fine  glacier, 
where  we  made  hot  coffee  and  ate  lunch.  From 
this  point  we  could  see  Mt.  Balfour,  one  of  the  high 
mountains  on  the  backbone  of  the  continent,  which 
was  literally  covered  with  perpetual  snow  and  glac- 
iers. It  was  difficult  to  realise,  as  we  looked  up  the 
long  and  gentle  slope  of  this  mountain,  that  it  rose 
five  thousand  feet  above  us.  The  glaciers  showed 
the  lines  of  flow  very  clearly.  Six  converging 
streams  of  ice  united  to  form  the  part  on  our  right, 
while  that  on  the  left  descended  steeply  and  made  a 
fine  ice  cascade.  A  waterfall  poured  gracefully  over 
a  dark  precipice  on  the  opposite  side  of  the  valley, 
and  added  a  little  life  and  motion  to  the  dazzling 
expanse  of  snow. 

On  the  next  two  days  we  continued  our  journey 
up  the  Bow.  A  feature  of  the  Bow  valley,  in  this 
part,  is  the  presence  of  swamps  of  a  peculiar  nature, 
called  "muskegs."  The  boggy  ground,  where  the 
peat-moss  reeks  with  moisture,  trembles  under  the 


{|>udfied0 


H3 


footsteps  of  men  and  horses.  Some  of  these  mus- 
kegs are  half  a  mile  across  and  from  a  distance 
appear  to  be  flat  meadows,  where  coarse  grass  and 
reeds  grow  luxuriantly,  and  the  monotony  of  the 
level  expanse  is  interrupted  by  clumps  of  scrub  birch 
and  willow  bushes.  Men  can  traverse  these  in  com- 
parative safety,  but  horses  have  the  greatest  fear  of 
them,  and  with  justice,  because  wherever  the  upper 
surface  of  vegetation  is  broken  through,  there  is  no 
foothold  in  the  soft  mud  and  water  underneath. 
Sometimes  it  is  impossible  to  get  the  poor  animals 
out,  though  with  encouragement  and  urging  they 
will  struggle  indefinitely,  and  in  this  respect  they 
are  far  superior  to  mules.  The  latter  is  a  dry  mount- 
ain animal,  unfit  for  swamps  and  rivers.  We  had 
considerable  trouble  in  crossing  parts  of  such  mus- 
kegs, and  in  some  places  were  compelled  to  cut 
branches  and  corduroy  a  path  for  our  horses. 

Above  the  first  Bow  Lake  the  river  sweeps  around 
the  base  of  a  long  and  partially  isolated  mountain, 
called,  on  Dawson's  map,  Goat  Mountain,  which  is 
one  of  many  others  of  the  same  name.  The  endless 
repetition  of  such  names  as  Castle,  Cathedral,  and 
Goat  mountains  on  the  maps  of  this  part  of  the 
world,  shows  among  other  things  the  form  or  na- 
ture of  the  mountains  and  the  lack  of  imagination  in 
those  who  gave  the  names.  The  altitude  of  the 
first  lake  is  about  fifty-five  hundred  feet.  From  this 
the  valley  ascends  constantly,  and  the  second  lake 
is  probably  eight  hundred  feet  higher.    The  green 


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144 


Z\)c  ItocMed  of  Cana^a 


timber  commences  near  the  lower  lake  and  con- 
tinues beyond  the  source  of  the  Bow,  which  is  about 
fifteen  miles  distant. 

The  approach  to  the  Cold  Water  or  Upper  Bow 
Lake  is  full  of  interest.  The  trail  leads  out  of  a 
stunted  wood  into  open  moors,  diversified  by  rock 
ridges  and  dry  meadows  in  alternation.  Above  this 
comparatively  level  place  a  precipitous  mountain 
stands  on  the  west  and  shows  a  very  fine  escarp- 
ment which  rises  over  three  thousand  feet  from  the 
valley.  One  of  those  glaciers,  characteristic  of  this 
range,  clings  to  the  less  precipitous  parts  of  the  cliff 
and  descends  in  a  three-pronged  mass,  resembling  in 
outline  the  claws  of  an  eagle.  Soon  after  the  open 
country  is  reached,  the  Cold  Water  Lake  appears  in 
the  distance.  In  shape,  size,  and  situation,  it  bears  a 
striking  resemblance  to  the  Lower  Bow  Lake,  but 
while  the  latter  is  comparatively  unin-?resting,  the 
upper  lake  is  one  of  the  noblest  and  most  beautiful 
of  all  those  so  far  discovered  in  these  Canadian 
Rockies. 

We  crossed  a  wide  meadow  which  led  by  a  gen- 
tle slope  to  the  shore.  The  beauty  of  water,  trees, 
and  rugged  mountains  is  here  combined  to  make 
one  of  the  most  charming  situations.  Our  camp 
was  pitched  on  the  border  of  a  small  lake,  less 
than  half  a  mile  in  length,  which  proved  later  to  be 
a  landlocked  cove  of  the  main  body  of  water,  and 
separated  from  it  by  a  narrow  channel,  in  the  dis- 
tance, through  this  connecting  waterway,  a  glimpse 


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I  is  about 


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out  of  a 
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bove  this 
mountain 
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•  the  cliff 
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Canadian 

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fur  camp 
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iter  to  be 
ater,  and 
I  the  dis- 
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Upper  Bow  Lake, 
Looking  south. 


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of  the  larger  lake  appeared.  Toward  the  east,  the 
small  lake,  upon  which  our  camp  was  placed,  con- 
tracts into  a  shallow  stream,  which  falls  a  few  feet 
by  a  succession  of  gentle  rapids  and  enters  another 
lake  about  three-quarters  of  a  mile  long.  This  rests 
against  the  very  base  of  the  glacier-bearing  mount- 
ain west  of  our  camp.  The  shores  of  these  smaller 
lakes  are  very  beautiful  and  varied,  in  some  places 
they  are  wooded  rock  banks,  which  rise  a  few  feet 
above  the  water,  and  are  partially  covered  with  the 
drier  kinds  of  mosses,  huckleberry  bushes,  and  vari- 
ous heaths.  In  such  places  the  water  is  very  deep, 
and  though  quite  clear,  has  a  dark  appearance. 
Then,  in  other  parts,  the  meadow  lands  come  down 
to  the  water  by  gentle  inclination  and  terminate  in  a 
low  and  sandy  beach.  Reeds  and  water  sedges 
grow  in  the  shallows  opposite  such  shores,  and  their 
coarse  leaves  almost  conceal  the  water  by  their  lux- 
uriant growth.  The  wind-swept  grass  of  these 
swampy  shores  flashing  in  the  sunlight  adds  another 
element  of  beauty  to  this  interesting  place. 

For  the  purpose  of  fishing,  we  visited  the  nar- 
rows, where  a  deep  channel  connects  with  the  main 
lake.  The  winding  and  irregular  shores  present  a 
combination  of  swamp  land,  wooded  banks  and 
stretches  of  water,  which  wonderfully  enhance  the 
effect  of  the  surrounding  mountains.  Opposite  the 
narrow  channel  lies  a  long  point  of  land  partly 
dotted  with  small  spruces  and  underbrush.  It  ex- 
tends some  distance  into  the  lake  and  dissolves  in  a 


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146 


Zbe  ttoMee  of  Cana&a 


' 


■■'! 


chain  of  small  rocky  islands,  some  of  which  have 
only  two  or  three  trees  upon  them. 

This  lake  is  between  three  and  four  miles  in 
length.  The  trail  traverses  the  woods  at  some  dis- 
tance from  the  water  to  avoid  a  number  of  muskegs, 
which  make  the  bank  very  unpleasant  for  travelling 
upon.  The  streams  and  springs  spread  over  the 
mossy  ground  and,  following  no  definite  channel, 
convert  the  place  into  a  muddy  slough,  which  is 
very  tiring  to  horses.  We  did  better  by  walking 
along  the  narrov/  beach,  sometimes,  with  our 
horses  in  the  shallow  water  for  half  a  mile  or 
more  at  a  time.  The  bottom  is  a  fine,  smooth 
gravel,  however,  and  gave  the  horses  an  excellent 
footing. 

We  made  camp  about  a  mile  from  the  upper  end 
of  the  lake.  Peyto  came  back  to  camp  that  evening 
with  a  five-pound  trout  which  he  had  caught  from 
the  shore  A  stream  which  may  be  considered  the 
source  of  the  Bow  comes  from  a  pass  to  the  north- 
west, and  enters  the  lake  near  the  place  where  our 
camp  was  situated.  Here  we  caught  a  .i  umber  of 
bull-head  or  lake  trout,  but  the  largest  weighed  only 
two  pounds.  There  are  probably  fish  of  very  large 
size  in  this  lake,  and  excellent  sport  could  be  enjoyed 
with  a  raft  or  a  boat.  During  the  last  fifteen  years 
this  region  has  been  almost  unvisited.  A  large  glacier 
is  seen  to  the  west.  It  sends  a  muddy  stream  into 
the  lake,  over  a  delta  very  similar  to  that  of  the  lower 
Bow  Lake.    Peyto  and  1  spent  an  entire  day  exploring 


•i~^ 


TTbe  little  f orft  pasB 


H7 


4 


the  glacier  and  its  immediate  vicinity.  Not  far 
from  the  glacier  the  stream  flows  in  rapids,  through  a 
limestone  canyon  which  is  bridged  in  one  place  by  a 
great  block  of  stone  about  twenty-five  feet  long. 
The  glacier  has  no  terminal  moraine,  but  comes  down 
to  a  thin  knife-edge  on  level  gravel.  The  lower  part  is 
about  half  a  mile  in  width,  but  it  is  a  mile  or  two  in 
breadth  higher  up,  where  it  descends,  from  more  or 
less  continuous  and  extensive  ice-fields,  thirty  or 
forty  square  miles  in  area. 

Open,  treeless  moors,  abounding  in  irregular 
mounds  and  depressions,  covered  with  a  scant  growth 
of  grass,  stunted  willows,  and  a  dwarfed  underbrush, 
extend  in  a  gradually  rising  valley  to  a  pass  about 
three  miles  north-west  of  the  lake.  Woods  border 
the  valley  on  either  side,  but  the  lower  parts,  possibly 
because  they  are  too  wet,  are  bare  of  forest,  and  a 
broad  and  meadowy  lane  leads  nearly  to  the  pass. 
The  pass  itself  is  a  delightful  region  sixty-seven  hun- 
dred feet  above  sea-level.  The  broad  valley  slopes 
upwards  in  grand  sweeps  to  the  mountains  east  and 
west,  and  insensibly  downward  to  the  valleys  north 
and  south.  Some  very  old  spruces  grow  in  scattered 
clumps  or  singly  throughout  pleasant  meadows  where 
myriads  of  mountain  flowers  make  a  bright  colouring. 
Rivulets  come  from  melting  snows  on  the  higher 
slopes  or  else  burst  from  the  ground  in  sparkling  pools. 
One  of  these  springs  poured  forth  a  constant  stream 
of  air  bubbles,  like  a  mineral  spring.  The  trees  are 
symmetrical,  especially  those  that  grow  in  the  open, 


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148 


Zbc  VocMea  of  Cana^a 


and  the  place  resembles  a  carefully  tended  park  rather 
than  a  bit  of  the  wilderness. 

The  view  on  the  other  side  of  the  pass  is  one  of 
the  most  inspiring  in  the  mountains.  The  slope 
drops  suddenly  a  thousand  feet  and  discloses  the 
entire  length  of  Bear  Creek  valley,  or  the  Little  Fork 
of  the  Saskatchewan.  This  river  takes  its  source  in  a 
fine  glacier,  enclosed  by  high  and  rough  mountains, 
among  which  there  are  immense  snow  fields.  From 
two  arched  caverns  in  the  ice  at  the  end  of  the 
glacier,  a  milky  torrent  issues,  and  after  crossing  a 
gravelly  flat,  enters  a  large  lake  which  lies  below 
your  feet  as  you  stand  on  the  pass.  This  is  Peyto 
Lake.  Its  blue  waters  are  closely  girt  by  a  very 
densely  wooded  shore  on  every  side.  To  the  north- 
west a  narrow  valley  stretches  away  in  a  straight  line 
nearly  sixty  miles,  which  leads  the  North  Fork  and 
the  Little  Fork  in  opposite  directions  into  the  great 
Saskatchewan.  The  course  of  the  Little  Fork  or  Bear 
Creek  is  marked  by  a  chain  of  ponds  or  lakes,  which 
carry  the  eye  away  in  a  grand  perspective. 

During  the  times  of  railroad  building,  or  more 
exactly,  in  the  fall  of  1884,  Jarr.es  Ross,  the  chief  of 
construction,  sent  a  surveyor  up  the  Bow  River  to 
ascertain  if  the  Howse  Pass  would  not  be  better 
than  the  Kicking  Horse  Pass,  which  seemed  rather 
rough.  About  one  week  later,  the  surveyor  sent 
back  word  that  he  had  struck  the  Columbia  River, 
thirty-five  miles  from  the  head  of  the  Bow,  with 
easy  gradients  and  everything  favourable  for  the 


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Upper  Bow  Lpkc^ 
Looking  itest. 


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'■■^^SJwSto^mS^^jBBS^BWBBI 


a  9urvei?or'0  nDistalte 


149 


railroad.  The  enthusiastic  surveyor,  however,  had 
reached  the  main  Saskatchewan  River,  which  is  fully 
fifty  miles  from  the  Columbia  and  on  the  eastern 
side  of  the  range. 


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CHAPTER  IX 

THE  ATHABASCA  PASS  —  DAVID  DOUGLAS  NAMES  MT.  BROWN 
AND  MT.  HOOKER^—  COLEMAN  AND  STUART'S  EXPEDITION — 
A  NEW  ROUTE  PLANNED  —  OUR  HORSES  FALL  IN  A  MUS- 
KEG —  DISCOVERY  OF  FIRE  IN  THE  FOREST — TAMENESS  OF 
A  WILD  BIRD  —  SURROUNDED  BY  BURNING  TREES  —  CAUSES 
AND  NATURE  OF  FIRES  —  EVIDENCES  OF  PREHISTORIC  FIRES 

—  WE  REACH  THE  SASKATCHEWAN  RIVER  —  INDIAN  SUPER- 
STITION ABOUT  THE  NORTH  FORK  — THE  STREAM  DIVIDES 

—  DIFFICULTIES  OF  FORDING  RIVERS  —  SPLENDID  WATER- 
FALLS —  EXPLORATION  FOR  A  ROUTE  —  DISCOVERY  OF  A 
PASS  INTO  THE  ATHABASCA  COUNTRY 

ABOUT  one  hundred  miles  north  of  the  railroad 
lies  the  Athabasca  Pass,  famous  in  the  early 
days  of  the  enterprising  North-west  Fur 
Company.  Alexander  Mackenzie  discovered  in  1793 
a  pass  across  the  Rockies  by  following  the  Peace 
River  farther  north,  but  the  Athabasca  and  Yellow 
Head  passes  were  apparently  more  popular,  as  they 
were  in  the  line  of  general  travel,  and  offered  a  route 
between  the  headwaters  of  the  Athabasca  and  Col- 
umbia Rivers,  in  fact,  no  other  passes  were  known 
across  the  Pockies  in  those  early  times.  For  many 
years  two  very  high  peaks,  Mt.  Brown  and  Mt. 

Hooker,  were  supposed  to  stand  on  either  side  of 

150 


flDt  IBvown  an5  HDt.  1)oolier 


i5» 


the  Athabasca  Pass,  and  were  believed  to  be  the 
highest  mountains  in  North  America.  Even  to-day 
our  best  atlases  place  their  height  at  about  sixteen 
thousand  feet.  When  Ross  Cox,  in  1817,  was  beat- 
ing a  retreat  through  this  region,  from  the  little  col- 
ony of  Astoria  near  the  mouth  of  the  Columbia,  his 
motley  crew,  embracing  many  strange  nationalities 
and  characters,  found  themselves  surrounded  by  all 
the  grandeur  of  the  Athabasca  Pass.  One  of  the 
voyageurs,  after  a  long  period  of  silent  wonder  and 
admiration,  exclaimed:  "I'll  take  my  oath,  my 
dear  friends,  that  God  Almighty  never  made  such  a 
place." 

The  botanist,  David  Douglas,  travelled  through 
the  Athabasca  Pass  in  1827  and  gave  the  names  and 
the  estimates  of  height  to  Mt.  Brown  and  Mt.  Hooker, 
Of  this  region  he  writes  as  follows:  "Being  well 
rested  by  one  o'clock  (May  i,  1827),  i  set  out  with 
the  view  of  ascending  what  seemed  to  be  the  highest 
peak  on  the  north.  Its  height  does  not  appear  to  be 
less  than  16,000  or  17,000  feet  above  the  level  of  the 
sea.  The  view  from  the  summit  is  of  too  awful  a 
cast  to  afford  pleasure.  Nothing  can  be  seen,  in 
every  direction  far  as  the  eye  can  reach,  except  mount- 
ains, towering  above  each  other,  rugged  beyond 
description.  The  majestic  but  terrible  avalanches 
hurling  themselves  from  the  more  exposed  southerly 
rocks  produced  a  crash,  and  groaned  through  the 
distant  valleys  with  a  sound  only  equalled  by  that 
of  an  earthquake.    This  peak,  the  highest  yet  known 


•  a  y 


>52 


TCbe  1?ocftie0  of  Cana^a 


I 


m 


!l   '       li 


I 


in  the  northern  continent  of  America,  1  feel  a  sincere 
pleasure  in  naming  Mt.  Brown." 

The  investigation  of  the  true  height  of  such  mount- 
ains in  a  region  of  which  there  are  only  vague  re- 
ports, has  a  fascination  to  the  explorer,  and  in  1893 
Messrs.  Stuart  and  Coleman  made  a  journey  from 
Edmonton,  by  way  of  the  Brazeau  to  the  Athabasca, 
in  an  effort  to  solve  the  problem.  They  encountered 
great  obstacles  in  the  way  of  fallen  timber,  but  suc- 
ceeded, after  heroic  efforts,  in  reaching  the  pass. 
There  they  ascended  one  of  the  two  mountains  which 
were  assumed  to  have  such  an  unusual  altitude,  to 
within  a  short  distance  of  the  summit,  and  found 
that  its  height  was  only  about  9000  feet ! 

The  subject  seemed  worthy  of  further  investiga- 
tion, and  in  July,  1896,  1  started  with  Mr.  R.  L.  Bar- 
rett with  the  purpose  of  visiting  and  measuring  those 
mountains.  In  order  to  add  interest  to  our  explora- 
tion, the  route  chosen  was  by  way  of  the  Bow,  the 
Little  and  North  Forks  of  the  Saskatchewan,  which 
was  practically  a  new  country,  and  thence,  if  possible, 
by  some  pass  available  for  horses  to  the  Whirlpool 
River,  which  flows  into  the  Athabasca.  The  success 
of  our  expedition  depended  on  finding  such  a  pass. 
We  could  get  no  information  about  the  region,  as  no 
white  man  had  been  up  there,  and  the  Indians  are 
very  indefinite  in  geographical  matters.  Moreover, 
they  have  a  superstition  concerning  the  North  Fork 
of  the  Saskatchewan,  and  never  hunt  in  that  country. 
We  made  preparations  for  a  trip  of  at  least  sixty  days, 


■— ^ 


Qiw  tooreee  fall  in  a  flDu0ltea 


153 


and  took  five  saddle-horses  and  ten  pack-horses  to 
carry  our  tents,  blankets,  and  provisions.  Our  men 
were  Tom  Lusk,  a  Texan  and  an  excellent  packer, 
Fred  Stephens,  a  Michigan  wood-cutter,  who  acted 
as  second  packer,  and  Arthur  Arnold,  our  cook. 

We  carried  in  our  outfit,  besides  thermometers 
and  aneroids,  a  steel  tape  for  base  lines,  and  a  tele- 
scopic gradienter  to  measure  vertical  and  horizontal 
angles,  and  an  excellent  camera. 

We  left  Laggan  on  the  twelfth  of  July,  and  in 
seven  hours  traversed  all  the  burnt-timber  country, 
which  makes  a  ruin  of  this  part  of  the  Bow  valley. 
Fred  Stephens  had  been  telling  us  of  the  terrors  of 
muskegs  among  the  foothills  east  of  the  mountains, 
where,  he  said,  **a  forty-foot  pole  would  not  reach 
bottom,"  but  on  the  second  day  of  our  journey  the 
muskegs  of  the  Bow  proved  nearly  as  bad,  if  not 
worse.  We  had  been  trying  to  cross  one  of  these 
in  vain,  and  were  beating  a  retreat.  Barrett  found  a 
short  cut  across  a  narrow  swamp,  and  said  it  was 
safe.  Our  horses  followed,  and  before  they  had  gone 
fifty  yards,  four  of  them  were  down  in  the  bottomless 
swamp,  with  their  heads  and  ears  alone  visible.  We 
headed  off  the  rest  in  time,  and  then  rushed  to  the 
rescue  of  these  poor  beasts.  They  were  all  safely 
recovered  after  half  an  hour's  work,  but  we  had  to 
make  camp  almost  immediately  in  order  to  dry  out 
the  various  packs  that  had  gone  under  water.  The 
accident,  which  seemed  trivial  at  first,  proved  more 
serious  when   the  amount  of  damage  was   fully 


Hi 


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154 


ICbe  1{ocMe0  of  Cana^a 


understood.  More  than  half  our  entire  supply  of  sugar 
had  been  dissolved,  our  tea  and  coffee  soaked  so  as  to 
lose  their  flavour,  and  most  of  our  baking  powder, 
which  was  to  make  bread  of  three  hundred  pounds 
of  flour,  was  absolutely  ruined.  The  next  day  we 
reached  the  Cold  Water  Lake,  and  from  this  camp,  in 
order  to  sketch  out  this  region,  Barrett  and  I  climbed 
Goat  Mountain  between  the  two  lakes.  We  saw 
a  column  of  smoke  in  Bear  Creek  and  were  ap- 
prehensive that  a  serious  forest  fire  had  started  in 
that  heavily  timbered  valley.  To  learn  more  of  the 
state  of  affairs,  we  only  advanced  our  camp  to  the 
summit  of  the  Little  Fork  Pass,  five  or  six  miles  dis- 
tant. There  it  was  plainly  evident  that  a  very  ex- 
tensive forest  fire  had  started,  and  was  sweeping  up 
the  mountains  under  the  influence  of  a  strong  wind. 
There  was  no  doubt  in  our  minds  that  two  prospect- 
ors, whom  we  had  met  a  few  days  before,  were  re- 
sponsible for  the  fire. 

The  apparent  distance  to  the  fire  was  about  five 
miles.  The  next  day  Barrett  and  Stephens  took  sad- 
dle-horses and  went  down  the  valley  to  investigate. 
They  returned  late  in  the  evening,  much  exhausted 
from  the  long  trip,  but  reported  that  the  fire  was 
much  farther  away  than  it  appeared,  and  that  they 
had  not  reached  it.  This  valley  of  the  Little  Fork  is 
so  straight,  and  is  seen  from  such  a  height,  that  its 
length  is  very  deceptive.  There  was  a  line  of  retreat 
possible  to  us  by  following  a  trail  behind  Mt.  Hecto* 
into  the  Pipestone  and  then  down  the  Siffleur  to  the 


Source  of  the  Little  Fork  of  the 
Saskatchewan  River. 


ft 


:  y 


I 

I' 


"1 


<'  I 


i.i 


II, 


mt^ 


a 


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i 


Zamcnese  of  a  MM^  £ir^ 


155 


Saskatchewan  ;  but  this  would  involve  a  loss  of  nearly 
a  week's  time.  It  seemed  better,  if  possible,  to  force 
a  passage  through  the  fire.  So  we  descended  into 
the  Little  Fork  valley  and  made  camp  near  the  stream. 
While  we  were  making  this  march  an  interesting  in- 
cident occurred,  which  1  will  quote  from  my  article  on 
*'  The  Sources  of  the  Saskatchewan,"  which  appeared 
in  April,  1899,  in  the  Journal  of  the  Royal  Geograph- 
ical Societf,  and  also  in  the  National  Geographic 
Maga:{ine  of  the  same  month. 

"  As  our  horses  were  winding  through  a  deep 
forest,  a  bird  appeared  which  resembled  a  pine  bull- 
finch, flitting  from  tree  to  tree  and  following  us 
closely.  Somewhat  later,  it  gave  the  most  remarka- 
ble instance  of  tameness  that  1  have  ever  seen.  Hav- 
ing followed  us  for  about  two  miles,  it  waited  in  a 
tree  during  the  bustle  and  confusion  of  making  camp, 
but  in  the  afternoon,  when  all  was  quiet,  and  some 
of  our  men  were  asleep,  the  bird  became  exceedingly 
familiar,  walking  on  the  ground  near  us  and  lally 
perching  on  our  extended  hands.  It  was  soon  evi- 
dent that  the  object  of  our  visitor  was  to  catch  mos- 
quitoes, which  were  hovering  in  swarms  around  our 
heads.  It  pecked  at  a  ring  on  my  hand,  at  our  needles, 
and  in  fact  any  metal  article ;  but  the  climax  was 
reached  when  by  accident  the  bird  saw  its  own  image 
in  a  small  looking-glass  which  lay  on  the  ground. 
Then,  with  extended  wings  and  open  bill,  it  uttered 
cries  of  rage  and  pecked  madly  at  the  glass  in  which  an 
eneniy  appeared.    Among  the  solitudes  of  mountain 


^ 


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! 
1 

U 

-.'■■    '.; 

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^    ■ 

(  J 


i  ; 


ftf 


156 


Zbe  'Rocliied  ot  Cana^a 


forests,  squirrels,  finches,  and  whiskey-jacks  often 
show  unusual  confidence  in  man,  but  this  particular 
instance  was  remarkable,  because  the  bird  would 
alight  on  our  persons  even  after  it  had  been 
momentarily  though  gently  detained  several  times 
as  a  prisoner  in  my  hand. 

"  Further  investigation  showed  that  it  was  possible 
to  get  our  horses  through  the  fire,  which  had  spent 
its  energy  on  a  large  extent  of  green  timber ;  so  after 
three  hours'  travel  from  camp  we  came  to  the  burn- 
ing trees,  where  the  fire  was  advancing  slowly,  as 
there  was  a  calm.  Then  came  several  miles  of  the 
recently  burned  area,  now  changed  to  a  forest  of 
blackened  sticks,  some  of  which  were  already  fallen, 
with  here  and  there  a  column  of  smoke  rising  from 
smouldering  moss,'  and  everything  half  concealed  in 
a  snowy  covering  of  ashes.  At  the  other  edge  of  the 
fire  there  was  more  danger,  and  frequently  some  tree 
would  flash  up  and  send  a  scorching  heat  toward  us. 
We  were  chiefly  anxious  that  the  packs  should  not 
take  fire  and  cause  a  stampede  among  the  horses  ;  so 
for  a  considerable  distance  we  drove  our  animals 
along  the  edge  of  a  lake  and  frequently  waded  deep 
in  the  water  to  avoid  the  heat  of  blazing  trees. 

"  After  an  exhausting  march  of  six  hours  we  made 
our  camp  in  a  muskeg,  or  swamp,  about  half  a  mile 
from  the  fire.  The  wind,  however,  which  had  been 
increasing  for  a  time,  began  to  carry  the  fire  toward 
us,  and  our  situation  soon  became  alarming  when 
some  heavy  timber  began  to  blaze  and  the  columns 


'i 


:.:fMmi 


Surroun^e^  b^  Burniiid  ZvceB 


157 


of  flame,  shooting  hundreds  of  feet  into  the  air,  made 
a  terrifying  roar,  which  caused  our  horses  to  stop 
feeding.  At  one  time  a  funnel-shaped  whirlwind 
about  two  hundred  feet  high  formed  over  the  heated 
area  and  remained  there  a  few  moments. 

"At  the  rate  of  progress  the  tire  was  making,  we 
should  soon  have  been  surrounded  had  we  not  packed 
up  and  moved  a  mile  farther  down  the  valley.  The 
second  camp  was  made  by  the  side  of  a  considerable 
stream,  wide  enough  to  stop  the  fire ;  but  toward 
evening  cloud  banners  began  to  form  at  the  peaks  of 
the  mountains,  and  next  day,  after  many  weeks  of 
drought,  rain  fell  steadily  for  ten  hours  and  fortunately 
extinguished  for  a  time  the  fires  that  were  destroying 
this  beautiful  valley." 

Forest  fires  have  consumed  about  one-quarter  of 
all  the  timber  land  in  the  Canadian  Rockies.  Such 
fires  have  of  course  been  more  frequent  since  white 
men  have  visited  the  country,  many  of  whom  have 
been  indifferent  about  putting  out  their  camp-fires, 
oi  have,  as  is  often  charged  to  prospectors,  criminally 
set  fire  to  these  beautiful  virgin  forests  for  their  own 
private  advantage.  Such  indifference  to  the  incalcul- 
able loss  in  the  destruction  of  magnificent  forests, 
and  conversion  of  them  into  barren  wastes  of  charred 
timber,  is  incomprehensible  to  the  lover  of  nature. 
During  the  dry  summer  months,  from  the  first  week 
in  July  to  the  end  of  September,  the  woods  burn  easily, 
and  the  utmost  care  should  be  taken  with  camp-fires. 
Most  of  the  forests  are  very  dense,  and  consist  entirely 


i\ 


11 


I: 


1 


t; 


'- 


(i 


n 


158 


ITbe  'RocMed  of  Canada 


1' 


of  coniferous  trees,  their  lower  branches  dead  and 
seasoned,  hung  with  grey  moss  and  bristling  with  a 
multitude  of  dry  needles.  The  rough  tree  trunks 
drip  with  balsam,  and  their  scars  are  coated  with 
accumulations  of  resin. 

Forest  fires  usually  progress  slowly,  the  moss  and 
underbrush  carrying  the  fire  along  from  one  tree  to 
another.  As  the  fire  catches  among  the  dry  branches 
of  a  fresh  tree  it  sweeps  rapidly  upward  with  a  loud 
roar  and  sends  a  sheet  of  flames  one  hundred 
and  fifty  or  two  hundred  feet  into  the  air  for 
two  or  three  minutes.  After  the  branches  and 
foliage  have  been  consumed  the  fire  smoulders 
for  a  long  time.  In  light  forests  and  a  calm  atmos- 
phere such  fires  are  not  very  dangerous,  but  where 
the  trees  are  close  and  a  high  wind  prevails,  the 
flames  leap  from  tree  to  tree  in  great  tongues  of 
flame.  Sparks  and  brands  carried  heavenward  by 
a  furious  draught,  created  in  great  part  by  the  fire 
itself,  start  the  flames  in  a  thousand  new  places  in 
advance  of  the  main  column  and  accelerate  its  terrible 
speed.  Clouds  of  dense  smoke  and  blasts  of  air, 
like  the  breath  of  a  furnace,  precede  the  flame  and 
wither  up  the  green  vegetation  in  preparation  for  its 
burning.  Fires  sometimes  travel  forty  or  fifty  miles 
an  hour,  and  from  them  there  is  no  escape  for  any 
living  thing —  man,  the  wild  animals,  and  even  birds 
all  perishing  together.  Though  the  forests  have  been 
more  frequently  burned  since  the  arrival  of  white 
men,  there  are  abundant  proofs  that  fires  occurred 


fivibencee  of  prebi0toric  firee 


159 


by 


even  before  primitive  man  came  among  them.  Traces 
of  charcoal  often  appear  where  old  trees  have  been 
uprooted  by  storm  in  a  virgin  forest.  Charcoal  may 
be  found  under  the  roots  of  trees  near  Lake  Louise, 
some  of  which  by  actual  count  of  their  rings  are  three 
or  four  centuries  old.  1  discovered  a  gravel  bank 
near  the  station  of  Cascade,  a  few  miles  from  Banff, 
which  gave  evidence  of  prehistoric  forest  fires.  The 
river  has  cut  under  the  bank  and  left  a  vertical  face 
of  clay  and  gravel,  in  which  there  are  several  thin 
layers  of  charcoal  fragments,  and  under  each  a  band 
of  clay  turned  red  by  heat.  These  ancient  fires  were 
no  doubt,  as  is  often  the  case  nowadays,  started  by 
lightning.  After  the  forests  have  been  burned  over, 
the  trees  begin  to  fall  and  soon  make  hopeless  ob- 
stacles to  travel.  A  crop  of  purple  fireweed,  rasp- 
berries, willows,  and  other  deciduous  bushes  sp.ings 
up  in  a  year  or  two  in  the  dead  timber.  Young  trees 
also  appear  very  soon,  sometimes  growing  spon- 
taneously throughout  the  burnt  tract,  or  else  en- 
croaching from  the  borders  of  the  green  forests. 
Pines  replace  spruce,  and  spruce  replace  pines  almost 
invariably,  and  make  a  rotation  of  species.  How- 
ever, in  some  regions  the  altitude  is  too  great  for  pine, 
and  when  the  spruce  forests  are  burned  they  neces- 
sarily replace  themselves. 

1  will  quote  again  from  my  article  on  the  Sas- 
katchewan as  follows  : 

"  We  were  now  two  days'  journey  down  tl.e 
Little  Fork  valley,  a  distance  of  about  eighteen  miles 


I 


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*  ■  i  i  1 

1  ii, 

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I. 

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If* 
it 

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160 


Zbc  KocMea  ot  Canada 


in  a  straight  line.  We  remained  in  camp  the  next  day 
to  do  a  little  survey  work  from  a  mountain  to  the  east. 
From  this  point,  at  an  altitude  of  eight  thousand  feet, 
the  Little  Fork  valley  appears  straight,  deep,  and 
comparatively  narrov^,  with  a  number  of  lateral 
valleys  coming  in  from  the  west  side  and  cutting  the 
mountain  masses  into  projecting  spurs.  The  strata 
of  the  mountains  are  for  the  most  part  nearly  hori- 
zontal, and  the  cliffs  are  frequently  almost  vertical. 
There  were  six  lakes  in  view  from  our  survey  point, 
of  which  two,  each  about  a  mile  long,  were  merely 
expansions  of  the  river,  three  were  in  lateral  valleys, 
and  one  lay  far  up  the  valley  where  the  river  takes  its 
source.  The  lateral  valleys  head  in  the  summit  range 
to  the  west  and  probably  have  never  been  visited. 

"The  scenery  is  very  grand  near  the  lakes.  A 
striking  peak  about  ten  thousand  feet  in  height,  with 
a  precipitous  rock  face  and  wedge-shaped  summit, 
stands  guardian  over  these  lakes  and,  together  with 
the  jagged  mountains  near  it,  helps  to  give  a  gloomy, 
fiord-like  appearance  to  the  region. 

"  On  July  22  we  marched  six  hours,  and  reached 
the  Saskatchewan  River.  The  trail  is  very  good, 
and  runs  for  many  miles  through  forests  of  splendid 
timber,  especially  in  the  great  valley  of  the  Saskatche- 
wan. At  the  forks  or  junction  the  Saskatchewan  is  a 
rapid  stream  about  150  yards  wide  and  apparently 
quite  deep,  and  the  pure  blue  waters  of  the  Little 
Fork  are  soon  lost  to  view  in  the  muddy  volume  of 
the  main  river.    The  Saskatchewan  valley  is  about 


Me  Keacb  tbe  Saeftatcbewan  "River     i6i 


four  miles  wide  at  this  point,  the  river  itself. flowing 
between  bluffs  of  glacial  drift,  and  while  the  massive 
mountains  on  every  side  are  between  ten  thousand 
and  twelve  thousand  feet  high,  they  are  less  imposing 
than  usual  because  of  their  distance.  The  main  river 
runs  about  north-east,  cutting  through  the  mountain 
ranges,  and  taking  its  source  to  the  south-west  among 
the  highest  glacier-bearing  peaks  of  the  summit 
range. 

"A  very  large  tributary,  which  we  called  the 
'North  Fork,'  comes  in  from  the  north-west  and 
joins  the  main  river  about  one  mile  above  the 
Little  Fork.  This  river  is  not  correctly  placed  on 
Palliser's  map,  nor  was  there  any  available  informa- 
tion about  the  region  whence  it  comes.  Even  the 
Stony  Indians  who  travel  through  these  mountains 
know  little  of  this  river,  because,  it  is  said,  many 
years  ago  one  of  their  tribe  was  lost  while  hunting 
in  that  region,  and  they  think  he  was  destroyed  by 
an  evil  spirit  dwelling  there.  At  all  events,  they  will 
take  no  chances  in  visiting  that  part  of  the  country 
now. 

"Our  route  to  the  Athabasca,  however,  lay  up 
this  river,  and  our  first  duty  was  to  find  a  ford 
across  the  Saskatchewan.  A  day  was  spent  in  find- 
ing a  safe  place,  as  the  river  was  in  summer  flood, 
though  not  at  its  highest  stage.  Mr.  Barrett,  with 
characteristic  energy,  discovered  a  ford  about  one 
mile  upstream,  where  the  river  spreads  out  among 
low  sand  islands  to  the  width  of  nearly  half  a  mile. 


'i'  i 


h\  I 


.  .1 


r^ 


1 

" 

1 

> 

t 

1 

! 

1 

f 

li 


'  ■J 


162 


Zl)c  IRoctAce  of  Canada 


"  A  sense  of  relief  came  when,  the  next  day , 
after  fording  the  turbulent  Little  Fork,  we  had 
crossed  the  main  river,  which  is  of  great  size  at  this 
point,  only  thirty  miles  from  its  most  distant  source, 
and  were  safely  on  its  north  side.  Turning  north- 
ward along  a  high  bluff,  we  came  in  a  short  time  to 
the  North  Fork,  which  appears  to  equal  the  so- 
called  Middle  Fork,  or  main  river.  About  one  mile 
above  its  mouth  the  North  Fork  flows  between 
rocky  banks,  and  there  is  a  fall  or  rapid  in  a  con- 
stricted channel  blocked  by  immense  masses  of 
fallen  cliff,  where  the  water  surges  in  foaming 
breakers  and  dark  whirlpools.  For  a  mile  or  so 
above  this  fall  there  is  a  fine  trail  through  a  light 
pine  forest,  and  then  comes  a  burnt  area  with  trees 
crossed  in  such  confusion  that  it  required  two  hours 
to  make  half  a  mile,  and  we  were  so  much  delayed 
here  that  our  progress  for  the  day  could  not  have 
been  more  than  three  miles  in  nearly  six  hours. 

"  On  the  following  two  days  we  advanced  about 
ten  miles  up  the  valley,  having  a  trail  wherever 
there  were  green  forests,  but  suffering  much  delay 
from  burnt  timber  and  muskegs.  On  one  occasion, 
when  marching  along  a  steep  bank  of  the  river,  a 
pack-horse  stumbled  among  loose  logs  and  rolled 
over  into  a  deep  pool.  The  horse  was  carrying  over 
two  hundred  pounds  of  flour,  a  burden  that  kept  it 
for  a  short  time  at  the  bottom  of  the  river,  but  after 
some  violent  struggles  it  came  right  side  up  and 
climbed  out.    No  damage  was  done,  however,  as 


4 


^be  Stream  Blvlbee 


163 


flour  absorbs  water  only  to  a  slight  depth,  and  very 
soon  makes  an  impervious  layer  on  the  outside. 

"Ten  miles  up  the  river  a  stream  from  the  west 
unites  with  the  North  Fork.  As  the  two  streams 
are  about  equal  in  size,  we  were  at  a  loss  which  one 
to  follow  in  order  to  reach  the  Athabasca.  In  order 
to  get  a  more  extended  view  of  the  country,  an 
ascent  was  made  of  a  mountain  which  lies  between 
the  two  rivers.  On  the  summit,  at  an  altitude  of 
eighty-four  hundred  feet,  it  was  seen  that  the  west- 
ern stream  takes  its  source  in  a  large  glacier  about 
twelve  miles  distant.  A  fair  idea  of  the  branch 
streams  was  given  by  the  valley  openings,  but  it 
must  be  confessed  that  less  is  known  about  this  river 
than  of  any  other  source  of  the  Saskatchewan  under 
discussion.  As  a  result  of  this  ascent,  we  were  firm 
in  the  belief  that  our  route  did  not  lie  up  the  west- 
ern branch.  The  other  valley,  however,  seemed 
exceedingly  deep,  and  canyon-like,  in  the  very  short 
distance  that  it  was  visible  at  all.  Though  the  air 
was  smoky  from  forest  fires,  in  spite  of  considerable 
rainy  weather  of  late,  I  tried  some  photographic 
work,  and  during  a  brief  but  fatal  moment,  when  I 
was  reaching  for  a  plate-holder,  the  strong  wind 
blew  my  camera  over  and  broke  it  badly  on  the 
rough  limestone  rocks.  The  most  fragile  parts,  the 
ground  glass  and  lens,  fortunately  escaped,  while 
the  wood  and  brass  work  were  in  pieces.  With  a 
tool  box  carried  for  such  emergencies,  the  camera 
was  reconstructed  after  a  few  hours'  labour,  and  did 


(,  '»!« 


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164 


;ibe  'RocMee  of  Cana^a 


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<: 


excellent  work  later  in  the  trip.  Our  men  returned 
in  the  evening,  and  reported  that  there  was  a  trail  in 
the  deep  valley  to  the  north-west. 

"  The  next  two  days  we  advanced  only  about  ten 
miles  because  of  the  uncertainty  of  the  trails,  the 
rough  nature  of  the  forests,  and  repeated  crossings  of 
the  river.  Our  progress  was  slow,  in  spite  of  our 
custom  of  having  one  or  two  men  explore  and  cut 
out  the  trail  for  the  next  day  as  far  as  possible  each 
afternoon.  In  this  place,  the  river  is  at  the  bottom  of 
a  narrow  valley,  the  sides  of  which  are  smooth  prec- 
ipices, adorned  here  and  there  by  clumps  of  trees 
clinging  to  the  ledges.  Streams  and  springs  from  far 
above  came  down  in  delicate  curtains  of  spray  or 
graceful  waterfalls  wafted  from  side  to  side  by  every 
breeze.  The  flood  of  glacial  waters  sweeps  over  a 
gravel-wash  in  a  network  of  channels,  with  the  main 
body  of  water  swinging  from  one  side  to  another  of 
the  valley  and  washing  against  steep  or  inaccessible 
banks.  This  condition  of  things  caused  us  to  cross 
and  recross  the  stream  almost  constantly,  and,  though 
the  fords  were  in  general  not  more  than  three  feet 
deep,  the  icy  waters  ran  with  such  force  that  our 
crossings  were  not  without  excitement.  In  spite  of 
the  best  judgment  and  care  of  the  packers,  our  horses 
got  beyond  their  depth  several  times  and  had  to  swim 
across.  As  the  saddle-horses  are  guided  by  riders, 
they  rarely  lose  their  footing,  but  the  pack-animals, 
coming  along  in  a  bunch,  confused  by  the  shouting 
of  the  men  and  the  roar  of  the  rapids,  hesitate  and 


S)iincultie0  of  forMng  1R\vevB 


165 


often  enter  the  river  a  little  above  or  below  the  best 
ford,  and  so  get  into  deep  water.  Dangerous  rapids 
or  a  log  jam  below  make  such  occasions  critical,  not 
alone  for  the  safety  of  the  horses,  bit  even  for  the 
success  of  an  expedition  in  case  a  large  quantity  of 
provisions  is  lost.  Pack-horses  cannot  swim  very 
far  with  their  tight  cinches  ;  and  moreover  the  icy 
waters  of  these  mountain  streams  paralyse  their 
muscles  very  quickly. 

"  The  trail  at  length  leaves  the  river,  and  makes  a 
rapid  ascent  through  forests  on  the  east  side  of  the 
valley,  so  that  in  an  hour  we  had  gained  a  thousand 
feet.  Through  the  trees  we  caught  glimpses  of  mag- 
nificent scenery  :  the  uniting  streams  in  the  canyon 
bottom,  the  mountain  sides  heavily  timbered  or  rising 
into  snow  summits,  and  to  the  west  an  immense 
glacier,  which  was  the  source  of  the  largest  stream. 
The  North  Fork  was  rapidly  dividing  into  its  ultimate 
tributaries.  The  sound  of  mountain  streams  falling  in 
cascades,  the  picturesque  train  of  horses,  each  animal 
cautiously  picking  a  safe  passage  along  the  rocky 
pathway ;  the  splendid  trees  around  us,  our  great 
height,  and  the  tremendous  grandeur  of  the  mountain 
scenery,  all  helped  to  make  our  surroundings  most 
enjoyable.  Above  the  sound  of  wind  in  the  forest, 
there  was  presently  heard  the  roar  of  a  waterfall,  and 
half  a  mile  beyond  we  saw  a  large  stream  apparently 
bursting  from  the  top  of  a  fine  precipice  and  falling  in 
one  magnificent  leap  down  a  great  height.  Through 
a  notch  in  the  mountains,  there  was  another  fall  visible 


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some  miles  distant  fully  twice  as  high  as  the  one 
near  us.  It  was  learned  later  that  every  stream  de- 
scended into  the  canyon  by  a  fall  and  succession  of 
cascades. 

"  We  camped  in  a  beautiful  wooded  valley  with 
much  open  country  at  an  altitude  of  sixty-three  hun- 
dred feet  above  the  sea.  "Near  our  tents  was  the 
river,  which  at  this  place  is  a  comparatively  small 
stream  of  crystal  clear  water.  In  the  afternoon  1  as- 
cended, with  one  of  the  men,  a  small  mountain 
which  lay  to  the  west  of  our  camp.  From  this  sum- 
mit two  passes  were  visible,  one  five  miles  to  the 
north  and  the  other  more  distant  and  toward  the 
north-west.  The  view  to  the  west  was  more  ex- 
tended. There  was  a  large  straight  glacier  directly 
before  us,  the  one  we  had  seen  earlier  in  the  day, 
which  supplies  the  greater  part  of  the  water  of  the 
North  Fork.  At  least  six  or  seven  miles  of  this 
glacier  is  visible,  and  it  may  extend  much  farther  be- 
hind the  intervening  mountains.  The  glacier  has  no 
terminal  moraine,  and  slopes  by  a  "ery  even  grade 
to  a  thin  knife-like  edge,  in  which  it  terminates. 

**  The  next  day  Mr.  Barrett  went  off  to  climb,  if 
possible,  a  mountain  over  eleven  thousand  feet  in  al- 
titude, north  of  our  camp,  while  one  of  the  packers 
and  I  started  to  explore  the  pass  to  the  north-west. 
The  other  packer  spent  part  of  the  day  investigating 
the  other  pas?.  This  division  of  labour  vas  a  great 
saving  of  time.  At  our  conference  that  evening, 
which  did  not  occur  till   midnight,  when  the  last 


h  k 


H  pad0  into  tbe  Btbabaeca  Country     167 


member  came  into  camp,  it  was  decided  that  the  pass 
to  the  north  seemed  unfavourable  as  a  route  to  the 
Athabasca.  Mr.  Barrett  failed  in  his  ascent  because 
the  mountain  was  more  distant  than  it  appeared. 
The  pass  to  the  north-west  was  more  favourable,  and 
on  the  next  day  we  moved  our  camp  so  as  to  be  al- 
most on  the  summit.  The  last  and  longest  branch 
of  the  North  Fork  comes  from  a  small  glacial  lake  on 
one  side  of  a  meadow-like  summit  and  at  the  base  of 
a  splendid  mountain,  a  complex  mass  of  rocky  aretes 
and  hanging  glaciers. 

"  Upon  further  inquiry  we  learned  that  the  valley 
as  it  descended  to  the  north-west  was  blocked  by  a 
glacier  that  came  into  it,  and  beyond  that  a  canyon, 
which  made  this  route  altogether  out  of  the  question. 
A  high  valley  on  the  right,  however,  offered  the  last 
and  only  escape  for  us,  and  after  reaching  an  altitude 
of  eight  thousand  feet  our  descent  began  into  a  valley 
that  we  knew  must  be  either  the  Athabasca  or  the 
Whirlpool  River,  which  flows  into  the  Athabasca. 
Thus  the  most  critical  part  of  our  expedition,  the  dis- 
covery of  a  pass  from  the  Saskatchewan  to  the  Atha- 
basca, was  safely  accomplished." 


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CHAPTER  X 

V.S  ENTER  THE  ATHABASCA  COUNTRY  —  SLOW  JOURNEY 
DOWN  THE  WHIRLPOOL— REACH  THE  MAIN  RIVER  —  GREAT 
VOLUME  OF  WATER  IN  THE  ATHABASCA— TURN  SOUTH  AND 
REACH  FORTRESS  LAKE  — SITUATION  OF  OUR  CAMP— VIEW 
FROM  A  HIGH  MOUNTAIN — BUILDING  A  RAFT  — MEASURING 
MT.  HOOKER  —  AN  INTERESTING  VOYAGE  DOWN  THE  LAKE 
— MEASURING  A  HIGH  MOUNTAIN  TO  THE  WEST — A  FOOT 
JOURNEY  TO  BASE  OF  THE  GREAT  PEAKS — FORCED  MARCHES 
AND  SHORT  RATIONS 

TO  the  south-west  of  the  pass  we  had  dis- 
covered was  a  group  of  very  high  mountains. 
They  were  dome  shaped  and  covered  with 
immense  snow  fields.  We  were  now  so  far  north 
that  a  hope  was  entertained  that  Mt.  Brown  and  Mt. 
Hooker  might  be  among  them,  but  a  rough  measure- 
ment of  one  of  the  highest  peaks  gave  an  altitude  of 
only  11,500  feet.  A  rugged  valley  lies  among  them 
and  discharges  a  stream  into  the  Whirlpool  River. 
It  is  surrounded  by  cliffs  on  every  side,  and  at  the  top 
there  is  an  unbroken  wall  of  glacier  ice  several  miles 
in  length  in  the  form  of  a  horseshoe. 

We  had  now  been  travelling  nearly  a  month,  and 
on  August  9th  made  our  entry  into  the  Athabasca 

country.    On  this  date,  sending  our  men  and  horses 

168 


Slow  3ournc^  Down  tbc  Mblrlpool     169 

ahead,  Barrett  and  I  remained  behind  in  the  hope  ot 
climbing  a  mountain  to  the  north  about  ten  thousand 
feet  high.  The  weather,  however,  was  squally,  with 
frequent  snow  showers,  while  the  higher  mountains 
were  concealed  by  clouds.  At  noon  we  gave  it  up 
and  followed  after  our  men,  making  a  very  steep 
descent  of  two  thousand  feet  into  the  Whirlpool 
valley.  Violent  gusts  of  wind  made  the  forests  roar, 
and  carried  clouds  of  dust  over  the  gravelly  valley 
bottom.    The  scenery  in  this  region  is  magnificent. 

On  the  loth  we  marched  down  the  valley  in  a 
north-westerly  direction.  On  one  occasion,  while 
debating  the  best  route,  some  of  our  horses  com- 
menced to  drink  at  the  river  edge,  while  the  others 
crowded  them  into  the  water,  whereupon  they  all 
swam  across.  They  then  began  to  graze  uncon- 
cernedly on  the  other  side.  It  was  some  time  before 
we  could  find  a  ford,  and  then  we  travelled  a  long  dis- 
tance on  that  side,  for  the  country  was  as  open  as  on 
the  other.  1  ascended  to  the  top  of  a  mountain  about 
three  thousand  feet  above  the  valley  in  the  afternoon. 
From  this  1  saw  that  the  Whirlpool  valley  turned 
slightly  to  the  west  between  two  long  and  monoton- 
ous ridges,  and  was  much  disappointed  to  learn  that 
it  was  at  least  twenty  miles  farther  to  the  main 
Athabasca. 

August  nth.  We  marched  five  hours  down  the 
valley  through  a  desolate  region  of  gravel  washes 
where  the  river  fiows  in  many  channels.  The  burnt 
timber  is  mostly  standing  and  easy  to  travel,  but 


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uniform  and  unbroken  ridges  on  either  side  of  the 
valley  made  our  progress  seem  painfully  slow.  We 
found  great  numbers  of  wild  strawberries  and  saw 
many  bear  and  moose  tracks.  The  cold  weather  of 
the  last  ten  days  had  lowered  the  rivers  suddenly. 

/August  12th.  The  weather  is  clear  and  fine. 
Marched  five  hours  and  made  good  headway,  as  the 
Indian  trail  is  well  defined  and  the  country  pretty  open. 
We  saw  a  bear  and  two  cubs  across  the  river,  and 
Barrett  killed  one  of  the  cubs  at  long  range.  The  old 
bear  got  away,  however.  After  camp  was  made  I 
ascended  a  mountain  to  the  north,  and  got  a  fine  view, 
seeing  the  main  Athabasca  at  last  to  the  north-west. 

August  iph.  We  were  now  on  Coleman  and 
Stuart's  trail,  as  they  had  come  into  this  valley  by 
following  a  stream  which  enters  from  the  east.  They 
had  done  an  immense  amount  of  cutting  in  the  fallen 
timber,  and  must  have  been  greatly  delayed.  Many 
trees  have  fallen  since,  and  we  had  two  men  chopping 
all  the  time.  We  got  on  the  wrong  trail  after  a  two 
hours'  march,  and  made  a  vain  attempt  to  cross  the 
river,  but  were  finally  compelled  to  pitch  camp  so  as 
to  spend  the  afternoon  in  a  reconnaissance.  The 
Whirlpool  River  has  gained  an  immense  volume  of 
water  within  the  last  ten  miles,  though  no  streams 
of  large  size  have  entered  it.  The  river  is  a  roaring 
rapid,  fifty  yards  across  and  three  feet  deep.  The 
bottom  is  made  of  large  quartzite  boulders,  a  yard  or 
more  in  diameter  and  smooth  as  glass.  No  horse  can 
stand  among  them  or  even  walk  along  the  shore. 


'Reacb  tbe  fl>ain  'Hiver 


171 


We  found  it  impossible  to  cross,  because  in  event  of 
a  horse  falling  in  midstream  there  would  be  no  pos- 
sible escape  for  the  rider.  In  the  afternoon  our  men 
found  a  ford  near  the  junction  of  the  Whirlpool  with 
the  main  Athabasca. 

August  14th.  After  exasperating  delay  and 
trouble  in  fallen  timber  we  were  compelled  to  give 
up  Stuart  and  Coleman's  trail.  In  six  hours  we 
reached  the  Athabasca  River.  The  heat  was  very 
great  and  myriads  of  grasshoppers  rose  in  clouds  as 
our  horses  tramped  along  through  the  burnt  timber. 
The  country  is  overrun  by  a  small  growth  of  pines 
which  have  been  repeatedly  killed  by  fire.  The 
slender,  pointed  poles  lie  crossed  in  every  direction 
and  are  very  trying  to  the  horses,  as  one  ena  often 
flies  up  and  prods  the  horse,  thereby  making  the 
animal  jump  and  run  in  terror. 

We  got  our  first  view  of  the  great  muddy  Atha- 
basca from  the  top  of  a  level  terrace,  of  which  there 
are  three  in  this  valley.  We  descended  a  steep  bank 
near  the  junction  of  the  Whirlpool  and  Athabasca. 
As  we  approached  the  ford  a  large  raven  circled  over 
our  heads,  croaking  dismally.  We  got  across  safely 
in  spite  of  the  ill  omen,  and  made  camp  in  a  small 
patch  of  green  timber.  Our  altitude  here,  according 
to  the  aneroid,  was  only  thirty-eight  hundred  feet. 
Though  it  is  difficult  to  estimate  relative  volumes  of 
water  by  the  eye  alone,  it  was  evident  that  the 
Whirlpool  River  is  probably  only  one-fourth  the  size 
of  the  Athabasca. 


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172 


Z\)c  IRocKica  of  Canada 


On  August  15th  and  i6th  we  turned  due  south 
and  followed  the  main  river,  marching  six  hours  each 
day.  There  was  no  trail,  and  we  made  our  way  as 
rapidly  as  possible  through  burnt  timber,  where, 
however,  most  of  the  trees  were  standing.  Barrett 
and  I  went  ahead  and  quickly  selected  a  route  while 
the  men  urged  our  horses  along  at  a  fast  pace.  Thus 
we  plunged  along  through  ravines,  up  and  down 
steep  banks,  and  around  impassable  wind-falls,  but 
were  frequently  brought  to  a  halt  and  compelled  to 
cut  through  heavy  timber. 

On  the  second  day  we  crossed  a  large  stream 
which  comes  from  the  south-east  and  runs  about 
parallel  to  the  Whirlpool  River,  from  which  it  is  sep- 
arated by  a  single  ridge  of  mountains.  The  water 
was  three  and  one-half  feet  deep  and  the  stream  was 
seventy-five  or  one  hundred  yards  across.  This  river 
is  nearly  or  quite  as  large  as  the  main  river,  which 
we  continued  to  follow.  Short  pieces  of  an  old  In- 
dian trail  now  appeared  along  the  bank.  In  about 
three  hours  after  crossing  the  large  branch  from  the 
south,  we  came  to  a  large  .uke,  called  by  Coleman 
and  Stuart,  "  Fortress  Lake."  The  Athabasca  is  not 
more  than  half  a  mile  distant.  This  lake  lies  in  a 
valley  running  east  and  west,  or  nearly  at  right 
angles  to  the  Athabasca. 

This  was  the  termination  of  our  journey  with 
horses,  which  had  required  twenty-six  days'  marching 
to  accomplish.  Ten  days  besides  had  been  consumed 
in  various  delays,  incidental  to  forest  fires,  finding 


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173 


fords,  and  exploring  valleys  and  passes  through  the 
wilderness,  parts  of  which  were  absolutely  unmapped 
and  untravelled  before  our  expedition.  At  Fortress 
Lake  we  were  so  near  the  Athabasca  Pass  that  any 
mountains,  such  as  Brown  or  Hooker,  could  be 
seen  and  measured  from  the  neighbouring  heights. 
It  remained  now  to  lay  out  a  base  line  and  commence 
triangulation  of  the  surrounding  region,  but  before 
referring  to  this  work,  a  brief  description  of  the 
neighbourhood  is  in  order. 

Our  camp  was  in  a  grove  of  spruces  near  the  lake. 
The  shore  is  flat  and  rather  swampy,  while  the  water 
is  shallow  for  some  distance  and  very  much  crowded 
with  a  mass  of  water-worn  tree  trunks.  Some  had 
been  stranded  on  the  shore  at  a  time  when  the  lake 
level  was  considerably  higher,  and  others,  having 
become  water-logged,  were  sunk  in  deeper  water, 
where  they  fairly  covered  the  bottom  and  projected 
their  bare  branches  and  grotesquely  shaped  roots 
above  the  surface.  The  lake  is  about  one  mile  wide 
and  apparently  very  long.  1  calculated  the  distance 
to  a  sand-bank  down  the  lake  to  be  five  and  one- 
quarter  miles.  A  very  imposing  mountain  lies  on 
the  south  side  of  the  lake,  and  another  on  the  north 
rises  more  than  five  thousand  feet  above  the  water. 
But  where  were  Brown  and  Hooker  ?  Straight  be- 
fore us  to  the  west,  a  massive  glacier-bearing  peak 
seemed  at  first  as  though  it  might  answer  for  one  of 
them.  It  was  in  the  right  place  to  be  very  near  the 
Athabasca  Pass,  and  though  its  height  did  not  seem 


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great,  the  amount  of  Ice  which  covered  its  entire 
east  fiice  and  its  distance  may  have  deceived  us. 

On  August  17th  Barrett  and  1  set  out  to  climb  the 
peak  north  of  the  lake  in  order  to  discover  the  loca- 
tion of  the  highest  mountains.  We  had  a  long  and 
tiresome  walk,  through  a  heavy  forest,  and  dis- 
covered a  very  old  trail,  so  much  blocked,  however, 
by  fallen  trees  as  to  be  almost  useless.  After  reach- 
ing a  point  about  forty-five  hundred  feet  above  the 
valley,  the  weather  became  threatening,  and  I  set 
up  my  camera  at  once  and  took  a  set  of  views 
around  the  horizon.  The  clouds  formed  constantly 
a  few  yards  above  my  head,  but  1  got  the  distant 
mountains,  though  the  smoke  and  gloom  made  the 
results  very  poor.  Barrett  continued  up  the  mount- 
ain, though  the  climb  involved  some  rathei  perilous 
work  among  rotten  limestone  cliffs.  He  reached  the 
summit,  which  is  about  ninety-six  hundred  feet  high, 
where  the  clouds  shut  out  everything  from  view. 
From  my  point,  I  could  see  an  immense  glacier,  the 
source  of  the  Athabasca,  ten  or  twelve  miles  to 
the  south.  The  clouds  opened  a  moment  and  dis- 
closed what  appeared  to  be  by  far  the  highest  and 
finest  peak  that  I  had  seen  on  the  entire  journey,  ten 
miles  to  the  south-west.  It  was  a  wedge-shaped 
peak,  rising  from  a  very  long  and  precipitous  wall  of 
rock,  which  seemed  to  be  over  ten  thousand  feet 
high. 

The  next  two  days  Barrett  and  Stephens  were 
occupied  in  building  a  raft,  on  which  we  hoped  to 


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HDcaeurind  fl>t.  t>oofter 


175 


reach  the  other  end  of  the  lake.  The  sound  of  their 
axes  was  continually  heard  among  some  well-seasoned 
dead  trees,  about  a  quarter  of  a  mile  down  the  shore. 
While  this  work  was  going  forward,  1  measured  a 
base  line.  The  only  level  place  of  any  length  proved 
to  be  in  the  lake  itself.  I  laid  out  a  line  of  stakes  in 
eighteen  inches  of  water  and  set  up  my  gradienter  at 
either  end.  It  was  bitterly  cold  work  in  ice-cold 
water.  From  my  first  short  base  line  I  calculated  a 
longer  one,  and  then  found  the  distance  of  the  high 
mountain,  which  we  supposed  might  be  Mt.  Hooker, 
to  be  a  little  more  than  seventeen  miles.  The  work- 
ing out  of  the  final  logarithms  to  get  the  height  was 
very  exciting,  and  everyone  waited  impatiently,  as 
I  added  up  the  final  figures.  "Well,  the  mountain 
is  over  twelve  thousand  eight  hundred  feet  high, 
anyway,"  said  I,  much  pleased  at  the  result,  which 
would  make  this  the  highest  measured  mountain  in 
southern  Canada.  The  excitement  of  the  calculation 
must  have  been  too  great  for  accuracy,  however,  as 
1  found  a  moment  later.  In  wandering  around  among 
tangents  and  sines,  1  had  gotten  in  the  wrong  column 
somewhere,  and  after  a  hasty  revision,  Mt.  Hooker 
fell  twenty-three  hundred  feet  and  came  down  to 
ten  thousand  five  hundred  feet  never  to  rise  again, 
and  our  enthusiasm  fell  with  it. 

Meanwhile  Stephens  and  Barrett  had  built  a  fine 
and  seaworthy  raft.  Leaving  Tom  Lusk  in  charge  of 
our  main  camp,  on  August  19th  we  piled  our  luggage 
on  the  raft  and  commenced  a  voyage  to  the  other  end 


i  I 


(H; 


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If 


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■• 

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1 

'  1 

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176 


Zbe  IRocMce  of  Canada 


of  the  lake.  The  raft  was  built  of  about  ten  large 
logs,  fifteen  feet  long,  firmly  bound  together  with 
ropes,  which,  shrinking  in  the  water,  became  very 
tight  after  a  short  time.  Branches  were  laid  cross- 
wise to  keep  our  blankets  and  provisions  above  the 
water,  and  this  pile  of  stuff  made  a  place  for  two  of 
us  to  sit  upon.  The  other  two  sat  on  boxes  forward. 
Each  of  these  managed  an  oar  which  had  been 
roughly  hewn  by  Fred  Stephens.  Some  crosspieces 
nailed  together  and  to  the  side  of  the  raft  with  steel 
spikes,  which  we  had  brought  for  the  purpose,  made 
oar-locks.  Our  raft,  with  four  of  us,  carried  a  burden 
of  more  than  a  thousand  pounds.  Many  speculations 
were  made  as  to  the  time  that  would  be  required  to 
reach  the  other  end  of  the  lake,  and  these  ranged  all 
the  way  from  six  hours  to  three  days.  After  saying 
farewell  to  Tom  Lusk  we  sailed  at  6.40  a.m.  Our  plan 
was  for  two  men  to  row  in  alternate  turns  of  ex- 
actly thirty  minutes.  The  heavy  raft  moved  with 
surprising  and  pleasing  speed,  as  the  logs  were 
pointed  at  both  ends.  We  made  a  straight  course 
and  kept  near  the  south  shore  as  a  protection  against 
the  wind.  The  water  of  this  lake  is  very  clear,  but 
there  were  a  number  of  small  cray-fish  to  be  seen  as 
we  went  along,  and  I  have  observed  that  this  is 
usually  a  sign  of  the  absence  of  fish.  It  is  indeed  a 
surprising  fact  that  this  splendid  body  of  water  has 
no  fish.  It  is  only  forty-two  hundred  feet  above 
sea-level  and  abounds  in  food,  for  we  saw  thousands 
of  moths  and  grasshoppers  floating  on  the  water. 


'ijh 


,:^.;rim!mr: 


fin  Intereetino  IDo^^aoe  Down  tbe  Xahc   i;; 

The  scenery  is  very  fine,  and  those  of  us  who 
were  not  engaged  in  rowing  had  an  opportunity  to 
study  the  forests  and  mountains  on  either  side  of  the 
blue  lake.  In  about  three  hours  we  passed  the 
mouth  of  a  large  stream,  which  comes  from  a  glacier 
several  miles  south  of  the  lake.  A  wind  sprang  up 
about  ten  o'clock  and  roughened  the  lake,  but  we 
were  well  protected  by  staying  close  to  the  shore, 
while  on  the  opposite  side,  we  could  see  the  white- 
caps  running.  Sometimes  our  course  led  us  very 
close  to  the  rocky  shores,  which  were  covered  with 
a  growth  of  immense  spruces,  or  in  places,  where 
snow-slides  had  swept  the  forest  away,  there  was  an 
impassable  jungle  of  spreading  alder,  willow,  and 
birch  bushes.  Our  steady  progress  was  a  constant 
source  of  delight,  when  we  thought  of  the  infinite 
obstacles  an  overland  scramble  on  such  a  shore 
would  have  presented. 

After  the  fourth  hour  of  rowing  we  approached 
a  small  island  having  a  single  tree  upon  it.  We 
passed  through  a  narrow  channel  between  it  and  the 
shore.  Here  the  lake  makes  a  turn  to  the  left,  and 
so  brought  us  against  the  full  sweep  of  the  wind, 
which  was  driving  a  heavy  surf  through  the  narrow 
channel  between  the  island  and  tiie  rocky  shore.  It 
so  happened  that  Arnold  and  1  had  just  finished  our 
half-hour  of  rowing  and  should  have  changed,  but 
the  wind  and  sea  had  become  suddenly  so  rough 
that  it  seemed  perilous  to  move  around.  In  fact,  for 
a  time,  we  were  a  little  doubtful  how  the  old  raft 


*«. 


I  I 


ii 


1 1 


-11', 


'l  ill 


I. 


178 


Zbe  'RocKiee  ot  (TanaDa 


l^'     ! 


I'f 


1 1     \ 


I     i 


would  behave  The  waves  swept  over  her  decks, 
but,  fortunately,  could  not  reach  our  luggage,  which 
was  on  an  elevated  platform.  The  end  of  the  lake 
now  appeared  not  more  than  a  mi^e  and  a  half  dis- 
tant, and  as  we  approached,  the  water  became 
quieter.  After  five  and  a  quarter  hours  of  rowing 
our  trusty  craft  began  to  glide  through  a  growth  of 
water-weeds  and  rough  equisetums,  and  finally 
scraped  upon  the  sandy  shore  of  the  western  end  of 
Fortress  Lake.  We  were  delighted  with  the  place, 
which  was  a  hard,  level  bank  of  gravel,  covered  with 
an  open  growth  of  evergreens. 

Circles  of  Dryas,  a  rosaceous  plant,  which  spreads 
over  the  ground  from  a  common  centre,  and  puts 
forth  a  margin  of  leaves  and  blossoms  at  the  outer 
edge  of  the  circle,  covered  the  gravelly  ground.  We 
caught  a  number  of  small  frogs  and  fried  their  legs 
for  luncheon.  In  the  afternoon,  I  laid  out  another 
base  line  in  the  lake  as  at  the  other  end,  and  con- 
tinued survey  work  on  the  nearer  mountains. 

It  rained  hard  in  the  night,  and  though  we  had 
no  tent,  and  were  sleeping  on  the  ground,  we  man- 
aged to  keep  dry  by  covering  ourselves  with  rubber 
and  canvas  sheets.  The  weather  was  so  thick  with 
smoke  and  clouds  that  nothing  could  be  done  in  sur- 
vey work  the  next  day,  and  it  looked  as  though  we 
should  be  defeated  in  this  purpose,  as  our  time  was 
limited  by  our  provisions,  both  here  and  at  our  main 
camp. 

Friday,  the  21st,  fortunately  broke  clenr  and  calm. 


calm. 


f 


IP 


1 1 


•^1- 


4  i 
!  I  1 


I 


HI 


I 


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Measuring  a  fbigb  flDountain 


•79 


Arnold  and  I  took  the  raft  and  rowed  to  a  point  on 
the  north  shore  of  the  lake,  and  then  ascended  a 
mountain  8450  feet  high.  I  carried  my  camera  and 
surveying  instruments.  On  the  summit  of  this 
mountain,  which  is  a  long  ridge,  1  built  two  cairns 
about  half  a  mile  apart  and  took  angles  on  the  high 
triangular  peak  to  the  south  and  also  on  Mt.  Hooker. 
The  amount  of  w^^rk  necessary  in  signalling,  build- 
ing cairns,  whu  li  should  be  visible  from  the  valley, 
taking  notes  of  angles  and  photographing,  delayed 
us,  so  we  did  not  commence  our  descent  of  four 
thousand  feet  until  half-past  six.  We  narrowly  es- 
caped being  overtaken  in  the  woods  by  darkness, 
but  reached  the  raft  just  at  nightfall. 

1  spent  the  next  day  triangulating  the  two  cairns 
on  ii  summit  of  the  mountain  we  had  climbed. 
My  (inal  results  gave  me  i  i,4So  feet  as  the  height  of 
this  peak,  which  is  higher  than  all  others  within  a 
radius  of  many  miles.  The  other  high  mountain, 
which  we  supposed  to  be  Mt.  Hooker,  proved  to  be 
10,50s  feet.  The  results  from  the  two  short  base 
lines  at  a  distance  of  nine  and  seventeen  miles  showed 
a  difference  of  less  than  two  hundred  feet  between 
them.  The  results  were  based  on  a  height  of  417s 
feet  for  Fortress  Lake,  which  depended  on  compari- 
sons of  my  two  aneroids,  with  simultaneous  observa- 
tions of  a  mercurial  barometer  at  Lake  Louise,  one 
hundred  miles  distant. 

On  the  23rd,  Barrett  and  1  left  camp  in  a  fnuil  at- 
tempt to  see  and  photograpii  lliese  moimtains  from 


11'  I 


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\>        I 


I         1 
r 

! 

I- 

i8o 


^be  'Rocfiicd  of  (^ana^a 


a  nearer  point,  and  for  this  purpose  we  set  out  down 
tlie  Wood  River  valley.  We  crossed  the  Wood 
River,  a  swift,  clear  stream,  which  comes  from  Fort- 
ress Lake,  and  we  had  all  we  could  do  to  keep  our 
footing.  A  larger,  muddy  stream  comes  down  a  side 
valley,  less  than  a  mile  from  the  lake,  and  joins  the 
Wood  River.  After  that  it  was  impossible  to  cross 
and  we  remained  on  the  south  bank.  We  walked 
about  eight  miles  down  the  valley,  and  encountered 
in  some  places  a  jungle,  very  similar  to  those  of  the 
Selkirks.  The  Oregon  grape  and  mountain  ash, 
which  are  characteristic  t^f  the  western  slope  of 
the  Summit  Range,  were  abundant,  and  even  the 
prickly  Devil's  Club  appeared,  much  to  our  regret. 
There  was  no  path  except  one  about  six  inches 
wide,  and  no  blaze  marks  on  the  trees,  so  that  this 
is,  in  all  probability,  nothing  but  a  game  trail.  We 
reached  a  place  at  length  where  the  Wood  River  be- 
gins to  descend  into  a  canyon.  Through  a  valley  to 
the  south,  the  great  triangular  peak  rose,  dimly  out- 
lined in  the  smoky  air,  but  maki!ig  one  of  the  grand- 
est mountain  views  that  1  have  ever  seen.  Because 
of  our  low  altitude,  this  peak  rose  nearly  eight  thou- 
sand feet  above  us.  May  not  this  be  the  secret  of 
Douglas's  false  est  i nates  on  Brown  :ind  Hooker  ? 

We  reached  camp  nt  one  o'clock,  unci  made  lunch- 
eon of  c(jrn-meal,  bacon,  and  stewed  apples,  which 
were  the  last  provisions  we  had.  Our  men  had 
rigged  up  two  poles  on  the  raft,  and  were  prepared 
to  stretch  a  huge  canvas  sheet  between  them.     In  a 


lit 


.■V  ,     ,,^ 


jforccb  rt>arcbc0  an^  Sbort  "Rations     iSi 

stiff  wind  wc  set  sail  and  made  wonderfully  rapid 
time  down  the  lake,  which  is  about  ei^ht  miles  lon^^ 
so  that  we  reached  the  lower  end  in  three  and  three- 
quarters  hours  without  the  use  of  oars. 

We  had  now  been  out  forty-four  days,  or  three- 
fourths  of  the  time  for  which  our  provisions  had  been 
calculated.  Moreover,  in  the  accident  to  our  horses 
in  the  muskegs  of  the  Bow,  much  of  our  food  had 
been  destroyed.  An  anxious  calculation  was  made 
of  every  article  of  food  left,  and  though  we  had  re- 
quired five  weeks  to  reach  this  place,  we  found  pro- 
visions enough  to  last  us  only  fourteen  days.  Two 
meals  a  day,  and  light  ones  at  that,  were  the  regula- 
tions put  into  effect  at  once.  We  marched  from  four 
to  seven  hours  every  day  for  the  next  thirteei)  days, 
and  reached  the  Upper  Bow  Lake,  where,  to  our 
great  joy,  we  met  a  party  of  friends,  from  whom  we 
procured  a  numlx'r  of  luxuries,  of  which  we  were  in 
great  need.  Barrett  here  left  me  to  join  the  other 
party  in  a  trip  behind  .Mt.  Hector  to  Banff  through 
the  headwaters  of  all  the  streams  entering  the  Bow 
from  the  north,  an  interesting  journey  of  about  sev- 
enty-five miles,  which  I  had  made  some  years  before. 
After  having  been  two  months  in  the  wilderness,  I 
reached  l-aggan  on  the  8t'i  of  September  while  the 
first  autumn  snows  were  falling. 


4:1  if  J 


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mm. 


f  <'\  ""'■''f  j 


I      Hi/ 


I'J 


I  ! 


CHAPTER  XI 

A  WINTFR  TRIP  TO  THH  SASKATCHHWAN  —  GLACIF.K  LAKH 
—  AN  EXHAUSTING  SNOW  CLIMB  —  VIEW  OF  MT.  FORBES  — 
ULTIMATE  SOURCES  OF  THE  GREAT  RIVER  —  THE  HOWSE 
PASS  —  DESCENT  OF  THE  BLAEBERRY  —  AN  ANECDOTE  OF 
THE  PIONEERS  —  DESPERATION  CAMP  —  PITIFUL  CONDITION 
OF  OUR  HORSES— HEAVY  SNOWFALL  AND  A  WINTRY  CAMP 

OF  the  headwaters  of  the  Saskatchewan  there 
remained  but  one  tributary  to  be  explored. 
Owing  to  an  attack  of  typhoid,  my  plans 
to  visi*^^  this  region  in  the  summer  of  1898  were  post- 
poned till  late  autumn,  in  fact  when  winter  had  virtu- 
ally commenced.  For  this  trip  1  had  nine  horses  and 
engaged  Bill  Peyto  and  Roy  Douglas. 

"  It  seemed  almost  foolhardy,"  to  quote  again 
from  my  article  on  the  Saskatchewan,  "when  on 
October  12th,  against  driving  snow  showers  and  a 
cold  wind,  we  set  out  from  Laggan  and  once  more 
resumed  our  toilsome  march  through  the  many  miles 
of  burnt  timber  northward,  as  it  were,  into  the  very 
teeth  of  winter.  Through  constant  snow-storms  — 
for  the  headwaters  of  the  Bow  are  a  breeding-place 
for  bad  weather — we  passed  the  Upper  Bow  Lake, 
the  divide  beyond,  and  got  six  miles  down  the  Little 
Fork  on  the  third  dav   as  a  result  of  forced  marches. 


ti 


St  or  711  (11  Lit  lie  J'^rrk  Valh 


i'V. 


K      .: 


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I  "TiawniMiirfii/ii.. 


■•-*  ■  -r  .  •'"•■vmffnmmuwrm 


6Iacicr  Xaltc 


•«3 


During  the  following  m^lit  there  was  a  curious 
creaking  sound  of  the  tent  rope  and  a  sagging  of  tlie 
canvas,  and  in  the  morning  our  prospects  for  a  suc- 
cessful trip  were  very  gloomy  indeed,  with  ten  inches 
of  new  snow  on  the  ground.  Not  wishing  under  these 
circumstances  to  get  farther  away  from  civilisation,  we 
remained  in  camp  all  day.  By  afternoon  the  snow 
ceased,  and  the  next  day  we  were  again  on  the  march. 
The  snow  was  fifteen  inches  deep  in  the  Little  Fork 
valley,  but  only  half  that  depth  near  the  Saskatche- 
wan, which  we  reached  on  the  sixth  day. 

"On  October  i8th  we  crossed  the  Little  Fork  and 
turned  westward  into  a  region  that  promised  to  be 
full  of  interest.  The  weather,  which  had  been  cloudy 
and  threatening  for  some  days,  now  gave  signs  of 
improvement  by  the  appearance  of  blue  sky  in  the 
west,  and  soon  after  the  high  mountains  up  the 
Middle  Fork  were  bathed  in  sunlight,  the  dazzling 
light  on  the  snow-covered  landscape  being  very 
cheering  after  the  days  of  gloom  and  storm.  The 
trail  penetrates  a  forest  on  the  south  bank  and,  fre- 
quently coming  out  on  the  river,  allows  views  of  the 
wide,  log-strewn  gravel-wash,  the  work  of  summer 
floods. 

"About  five  miles  up  the  river  a  valley  comes  in 
from  Glacier  Lake,  and  our  camp  was  placed  on  a 
point  of  land  between  the  confluent  streams.  The 
Saskatchewan  at  this  cold  season  is  clear  as  a  mount- 
ain spring  and  shallow  enough  to  be  fordable  on 
foot.     In  summer,  however,  it  is  a  raging  flood  that 


I 


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IMAGE  EVALUATION 
TEST  TARGET  (MT-3) 


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HiotDgraphic 

Sciences 

Corporation 


23  WIST  MAM  STRUT 

WHSTIR.N.Y.  MSSO 

(716)173-4503 


? 


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4^ 


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1 84 


Woe  KocMe0  of  Canaba 


\  i 


makes  the  region  of  Glacier  Lake  very  difficult  to 
reach.  From  our  camp  I  set  out  in  the  afternoon  to 
see  the  lake,  and  found  it  in  an  hour,  though  not 
without  a  hard  scramble  through  deep  snow  and 
fallen  timber.  The  view  was  well  worth  the  labour 
expended.  The  lake,  which  is  three  or  four  miles 
long,  is  beautifully  set  among  high  peaks,  and  at  the 
farther  end  a  snow  mountain  sends  down  a  glacier 
nearly  to  its  level.  The  setting  sun,  sinking  into  a 
notch  of  the  distant  mountains,  poured  shafts  of  light 
through  grey,  misty  clouds  and  tinged  their  edges 
with  a  pale-golden  illumination.  The  lake  was  nearly 
calm  and  reflected  the  beautiful  picture  of  mountain 
and  sky  from  a  tremulously  moving  surface.  The 
water,  by  retreating  from  its  summer  level,  had  ex- 
posed a  wide  margin  of  mud-covered  boulders  and 
slippery  logs — the  trunks  of  trees  carried  into  the 
lake  by  snow-slides,— but  in  the  distance  the  forested 
banks  seemed  to  press  close  upon  the  water.  There 
was  something  wonderfully  impressive  in  the  awful 
solitude  of  such  a  scene  under  the  spell  of  evening 
calm. 

'*  From  what  had  been  seen  of  the  country  I  de- 
cided that  it  was  important  to  reach,  if  possible,  the 
summit  of  a  high  mountain  that  lay  to  the  east  of 
the  lake,  which  from  its  position  would  command  a 
comprehensive  view  of  the  whole  region  and  also 
surely  reveal  Mt.  Forbes,  which  was  somewhere 
west  of  the  lake,  according  to  Palliser's  map. 

Accordingly  1  was  afoot  the  next  morning  at  nine 


(( 


'••   \ 


Bn  £i:bau0ting  Snow  Climb 


185 


o'clock,  with  a  camera  on  my  shoulders,  ready  for 
the  ascent.  The  mountain  appeared  to  be  about 
seventy-eight  hundred  feet  in  a'titude,  or  in  round 
numbers  three  thousand  feet  above  our  camp.  The 
weather  was  bright  and  cold,  nor  was  there  a  cloud 
in  the  sky,  and  it  proved  by  far  the  best  day  of  the 
trip.  It  appeared  that  the  walking  would  be  better 
on  the  other  side  of  the  Glacier  Lake  stream,  and 
after  some  ineffectual  attempts  to  bridge  the  river  by 
felling  trees.  Peyto  carried  me  across  on  his  back  in  a 
shallow  place,  and  so  the  climb  was  commenced 
with  dry  boots.  In  less  than  five  minutes  a  fine 
trail  appeared,  which  saved  a  great  deal  of  labour 
and  considerable  time  in  getting  to  the  lake  The 
trail  at  length  diverged  to  the  east  toward  the  mount- 
ain and  went  in  the  right  direction  until  the  altitude 
was  six  hundred  feet  above  the  lake,  effecting  a  great 
saving  of  energy  in  forcing  my  way  through  the 
underbrush.  The  sunlight  was  painfully  brilliant  on 
the  snow,  which  was  fully  a  foot  in  depth  at  seven 
thousand  feet.  At  this  altitude,  in  a  last  clump  of 
spruce  trees,  I  hung  my  camera  to  a  branch  and  took 
a  short  rest,  as  the  climb  so  far  had  been  very 
exhausting. 

"  After  a  pause  often  minutes  the  sharp  air  urged  a 
recommencement  of  the  ascent.  The  brilliant  glare 
of  an  hour  previous  had  given  place  to  a  somewhat 
cloudy  sky,  as  a  belt  of  heavy  cirrus  was  drifting 
along  over  the  mountains  in  a  great  line  running 
north  and  south.    The  sun  shone  through  it  teebly, 


'  1  ■? 


1 86 


ITbe  VocMee  of  Canada 


and  was  surrounded  by  a  halo.  I  soon  began  to 
have  doubts  of  my  ability  to  succeed  in  the  ascent, 
as  my  strength  began  to  fail  under  so  much  exertion 
in  the  deep  snow.  The  bushes,  rocks,  and  other 
inequalities  of  the  ground  were  buried,  so  that  I 
frequently  stumbled  and  fell.  Moreover,  it  now 
became  apparent  that  the  size  of  the  mountain  had 
been  much  underestimated,  for  the  heights  on  the  right 
rose  tremendously  even  after  an  altitude  of  seventy- 
five  hundred  feet  had  been  reached.  The  inclina- 
tion was  very  steep,  and  the  glare  of  the  now  returned 
sun  on  the  vast  expanse  of  snow,  and  the  absence  of 
anything  to  fasten  the  eyes  upon  for  relief,  produced 
a  curious  sensation  of  dizziness,  due  perhaps  in  part 
to  exhaustion.  I  felt,  however,  the  importance  of 
reaching  the  summit,  as  it  meant  practically  the 
success  of  the  entire  trip.  Moreover,  the  extraordin- 
arily fine  weather  on  this  critical  day  of  the  trip 
seemed  too  providential  to  be  lost  from  any  lack  of 
exertion  or  ambition. 

"Summoning,  then,  all  my  resolution,  1  made  reas- 
onable progress  for  a  time,  but  soon,  in  spite  of 
every  eager  desire  for  success  and  ambition  to  reach 
the  summit,  the  contest  between  will-power  and 
tired  muscles  became  doubtful,  as  the  snow  grew 
deeper  with  higher  altitude,  the  slope  steeper,  and 
the  far-off  summit  seemed  no  nearer.  Every  few 
yards  of  progress  was  invariably  terminated  by  a  fall  in 
the  snow,  and  it  seemed  better  to  rest  for  a  moment  in 
whatever  position  chance  had  it  than  to  get  up  at  once. 


IDiew  of  dbt  fovbcB 


187 


"  A  little  later  a  view  appeared  that  in  itself  well 
repaid  the  labour  of  the  climb.  On  the  right  was  an 
expanse  of  spotless  snow,  exceedingly  steep,  vast  in 
extent,  and  dazzling  in  brilliancy.  Its  rounded  con- 
tours were  sharply  outlined  against  the  sky,  but 
there  was  no  interruption  of  stone  or  cliff  in  the 
monotonous  covering  of  snow,  nor  any  scale  by  which 
to  judge  of  size  or  distance.  The  chief  object  of 
interest  in  the  view  was  a  snowy,  triangular  peak 
covered  with  ice,  which  now  began  to  appear  in  the 
west..  The  colours  of  rocks  and  cliffs  in  the  distant 
pe^ks  and  precipices  seemed  absolutely  black  in 
contrast  with  the  remarkable  whiteness  of  the  snow 
surface  on  all  sides.  Overhead  the  sky  was  intensely 
blue,  but  marked  by  distinct  wisps  of  white  cirrus 
cloud,  spun  out  like  tufts  of  cotton  into  shreds  and 
curving  lines. 

"At  an  altitude  of  eighty-eight  hundred  feet,  or 
more  than  four  thousand  feet  above  our  camp,  1  at 
length  reached  the  summit  of  the  mountain  crest. 
It  was  necessary  to  walk  along  the  crest  a  quarter  of  a 
mile  to  reach  a  somewhat  higher  point,  which  was  the 
true  summit.  The  snow  along  this  mountain  ridge 
was  in  many  places  three  or  four  feet  deep,  and,  mind- 
ful of  the  terrible  Alpine  accidents  caused  by  cornices,  I 
kept  well  away  from  the  edge,  below  which  it  seemed 
to  drop  sheer  several  thousand  feet.  From  intense 
frost  my  gloves  were  frozen  so  stiff  that  notes  and 
sketches  had  to  be  done  with  bare  hands. 

The  most  conspicuous  and  interesting  part  of  the 


i 


(( ' 


)  1 

^1 


it 

> 


»      ! 


i88 


Zbc  IRoclAcB  of  (^ana^a 


whole  vast  panorama  was  the  lofty  summit  of  Mt. 
Forbes,  beyond  the  valley  of  Glacier  Lake.  This 
mountain  and  another  about  ten  miles  to  the  west 
were  the  two  highest  peaks  in  sight,  and  each  is 
probably  between  thirteen  thousand  and  fourteen 
thousand  feet  in  altitude.  Glaciers  of  very  large  size 
come  from  these  mountains  and  terminate  a  few  miles 
above  the  lake.  The  whole  valley  of  the  Saskat- 
chewan to  its  upper  end  and  in  the  opposite  direc- 
tion for  many  miles  below  the  mouths  of  the  North 
and  Little  Forks  was  clearly  visible.  There  was  a  very 
high  rocky  peak  in  a  group  of  mountains  east  of  the 
Little  Fork  that  occupies  the  position  of  Hector's  Mt. 
Murchison,  which  he  calculated  to  be  13,600  feet 
high.  This  mountain  is  hidden  away  in  a  group 
that  must  be  seventy-five  miles  in  circumference, 
and  so  it  is  rarely  seen.  There  was  a  fine  view  to 
the  north,  where  a  wild  and  desolate  valley,  thou- 
sands of  feet  below,  was  dominated  by  a  castle- 
like mountain  over  eleven  thousand  feet  high,  cut 
in  ruins  like  ancient  towers  and  battlements.  Of 
four  plates  exposed  on  this  mountain  only  one  was 
successful,  so  I  had  a  narrow  escape  from  failing 
altogether  in  getting  a  view  of  Mt.  Forbes,  which, 
because  of  its  great  height,  is  veiled  from  view 
by  clouds  and  is  frequently  invisible  for  weeks  at 
a  time. 

"  On  Thursday,  October  20th,  the  day  broke  grey 
and  unsettled,  with  the  highest  mountains  touched 
by    clouds.     We   continued  our   march    up   the 


t  of  Mt. 
;.  This 
tie  west 
each  is 
■ourteen 
irge  size 
!W  miles 
Saskat- 
;e  direc- 
e  North 
is  a  very 
;t  of  the 
or's  Mt. 
600  feet 
a  group 
iference, 
view  to 
^,  thou- 

castle- 
igh,  cut 
ts.  Of 
)ne  was 

failing 

which, 

n  view 

eeks  at 

►ke  grey 
touched 
up   the 


\ 


ifi 


■' 


I 


''(  (• 


I  J 


?l 


II 


xnitlmate  Sourcee  of  tbe  (9reat  TOver    189 

Saskatchewan  valley,  and  urged  the  horses  rapidly 
over  a  level  gravel  plain  at  such  speed  as  to  make  in 
all  ten  miles.  On  the  west  side  of  the  valley  there  is 
a  stupendous  wall  of  rock  between  eleven  thousand 
and  twelve  thousand  feet  high,  which  terminates  in 
the  giant  peak  of  Mt.  Forbes,  a  little  to  the  north. 
About  four  miles  from  our  camping  place  there  is  a 
group  of  curious  rounded  hills  rising  like  forested 
islands  from  the  sea  of  gravel. 

"There  was  a  strong  raw  wind  against  us,  and 
because  of  our  water-soaked  boots,  half  frozen  by 
contact  with  snow,  it  was  altogether  too  cold  to 
keep  in  the  saddle  long,  and  everyone  walked  most 
of  the  time.  We  made  camp  in  a  miserable  place 
of  stunted  timber  half  killed  by  gravel  which  had 
been  washed  over  the  place  by  some  change  of  the 
river's  course  not  many  years  before.  The  river 
here  divides  into  three  streams.  The  smallest,  near 
our  camp,  comes  from  the  Howse  Pass,  less  than 
three  miles  distant ;  the  other  two  come  from  a 
valley  to  the  south-east,  each,  curiously  enough, 
flowing  on  opposite  sides  of  a  flat  valley.  In  the 
afternoon  1  walked  some  three  miles  up  the  valley  to 
where  the  lesser  stream  comes  in  from  the  west, 
and  as  it  heads  at  the  base  of  Mt.  Forbes,  i  followed 
it  a  mile  or  so  farther,  till  presently  the  current  be- 
came rapid,  the  valley  narrow,  and  the  water  closiely 
hemmed  in  by  rocky  banks,  so  that  walking  was 
very  difficult.  The  snow  was  a  foot  deep  in  this 
little  valley,  where  the  sun  and  wind  could  not  exert 


I 

ll 


n 


::r  - 


IQO 


Zhc  1{o€Me0  of  Cana^a 


■  <  '-1 


,  /< 


their  influence  as  in  the  open.  The  stream  on  the 
other  side  of  the  valley  is  larger  and  comes  from  a 
glacier  several  miles  distant.  This  whole  region  was 
very  thoroughly  examined  last  summer  by  Messrs. 
Baker,  Collie,  and  Stutfield,  who  not  only  explored 
the  large  glacier,  which  is  supposed  to  be  ten  or  fif- 
teen miles  long,  but  went  up  the  other  stream  several 
miles  to  the  base  of  Mt.  Forbes,  in  the  hope  of 
ascending  it.  The  flood  of  waters  that  sweeps  down 
here  in  summer  from  the  long  glacier  has  cut  chan- 
nels three  or  four  feet  deep,  lined  with  immense 
boulders,  across  the  whole  bottom  of  the  valley. 
This  is  the  chief  stream  or  source  of  the  Saskatchewan. 

"  During  the  night  the  wind  came  up  in  fitful 
gusts ;  the  stars  were  no  longer  bright  points,  but 
foggy  spots  seen  through  a  thin  mist ;  bands  of 
cloud  swept  along  the  mountain  sides  almost  as  low 
as  our  camp,  and  at  length  the  whole  sky  was  over- 
cast. The  barometer  was  much  lower  at  midnight. 
By  I  A.M.  snow  began  to  fall,  which  was  a  cause  for 
no  little  apprehension,  as  we  were  far  from  the 
railroad. 

' '  On  Friday,  October  2 1  st,  the  sky  was  still  threat- 
ening, though  very  little  snow  had  fallen.  We  were 
on  the  march  soon  after  ten  o'clock,  and  reached  the 
summit  of  the  Howse  Pass  in  an  hour.  This  pass 
was  made  known  to  the  traders  of  the  North-west 
Fur  Company  about  18 10  by  a  man  of  the  name  of 
Howse  or  Hawes,  and  was  at  one  time  much  used  by 
the  Kootenay  Indians,  who  came  over  the  mountains 


i,\\ 


2)e0cent  of  tbe  Slaebern? 


191 


and  bartered  with  the  fur  traders  at  a  place 
about  three  days'  journey  down  the  Saskatchewan, 
now  known  from  this  circumstance  as  the  Kootenay 
Plain.  This  route  is  now  impassable,  as  fire  has  run 
through  the  forests  in  the  lower  part  of  the  Blaeberry 
valley,  and  the  timber  has  fallen  for  many  miles. 
The  pass  itself  is  about  eighteen  miles  from  the 
Little  Fork  and  fifty-three  hundred  feet  in  altitude. 

"  At  this  Doint  we  were  seven  days'  journey  from 
the  railroad  by  either  of  two  routes,— the  one  by 
which  we  had  come,  or  another,  which,  by  going 
down  the  Blaeberry  one  day's  march  and  then  over 
a  pass  to  the  south-east,  would  bring  us  to  the  Kick- 
ing Horse  River,  and  so  to  Field,  in  British  Columbia. 
The  latter  route  seemed  preferable,  as  it  v/ould  be 
through  a  new  region. 

"The  descent  into  the  Blaeberry  is  one  of  the 
most  trying  exploits  that  the  mountains  offer.  We 
commenced  to  descend  rapidly  the  channel  of  a 
brawling  mountain  torrent,  crossing  from  side  to 
side  constantly,  so  that  our  horses  were  compelled 
to  climb  up  and  down  steep  banks,  to  scramble  over 
immense  logs,  or  sometimes  to  force  a  way  down 
the  boulder-strewn  bed  of  the  stream.  As  there 
was  no  trail,  Peyto  had  to  lead  the  way  by  what- 
ever route  appeared  best,  and  in  several  places  our 
horses  had  to  slide  on  their  haunches  down  steep 
banks  forty  or  fifty  feet  high,  jump  into  the  torrent, 
cross  it,  and  then  ascend  a  similar  bank  on  the  other 
side  at  the  greatest  risk  of  accident  and  to  the  no 


If] 


193 


Zbc  1locMe0  of  Canaba 


,;!h1 


l!,      ii. 


little  trial  of  our  own  nerves.  A  trail  appeared  after 
three  hours  of  such  labour,  and  we  camped  about 
ten  miles  down  the  valley.  It  rained  hard  all  night, 
turning  to  snow  in  the  morning." 

This  Blaeberry  River  flows  west  to  the  Columbia, 
and  was  formerly  much  used  as  a  route  across  the 
mountains.  In  1882,  when  parties  were  still  explor- 
ing for  a  good  railroad  pass  across  the  range,  Tom 
Wilson  was  sent  on  foot  up  the  Bow  to  the  Sas- 
katchewan and  thence  by  the  Howse  Pass  down  the 
Blaeberry.  This  trying  teat  was  only  accomplished 
after  the  last  morsel  of  food  was  eaten  on  the  road 
and  his  clothes  torn  in  the  burnt  timber.  Again  in 
1887  Wilson  took  two  gentlemeri  on  a  hunting  trip 
into  the  same  region  and  tells  the  following  story  of 
their  adventures : 

"  We  lost  our  axe  and  got  caught  in  heavy  wind- 
fall, where  we  had  a  very  rough  time,  as  no  other 
party  had  been  over  the  trail  for  years.  On  one 
occasion,  to  get  around  some  bad  timber,  we  had  to 
cross  along  a  steep  slope  at  the  top  of  a  cut  bank, 
where,  if  a  man  or  horse  rolled  into  the  river  he  was 
gone,  as  we  were  only  a  few  feet  above  a  narrow 
canyon.  I  unsaddled  the  horses  and  led  them  over 
one  at  a  time.  After  the  horses  were  safe,  the  two 
hunters  followed.  The  last  was  almost  across  when 
his  feet  slipped  from  under  him.  He  gave  a  yell  and 
grabbed  a  root  that  was  sticking  out  of  the  bank. 
He  was  stretched  at  full  length  and  his  arm  was  ex- 
tended so  that  he  had  no  chance  to  pull  himself  up. 


Bn  Bnecbote  ct  tbe  ploneere 


»93 


The  rough  gravel  would  have  held  him  even  if  he 
had  lost  his  grip  on  the  root.  So  at  first  we  laughed 
at  him,  but  seeing  the  look  of  terror  in  his  face  1 
shouted  'You  are  all  right.  You  can't  slide  down 
there.'  *  Who  is  trying  to  slide  ? '  said  he.  *  Bring  a 
rope. 

A  few  weeks  before  my  own  trip,  Messrs.  Collie 
and  Baker  had  discovered  a  pass  out  of  this  Blaeberry 
valley.  It  was  our  purpose  to  follow  it,  and  under 
Peyto's  guidance  we  turned  up  a  small  stream  wh'ch 
enters  from  the  south.  A  rough  scramble  over 
boulders  and  gravel  was  followed  by  an  exceedingly 
steep  ascent  of  a  wooded  slope.  Snow  la>  on  the 
ground  in  shrided  places,  and  as  we  ascended  it  be- 
came deeper.  It  was  fifteen  inches  deep  after  we 
had  climbed  twelve  hundred  feet.  Our  bearings 
were  by  compass,  as  storms  during  the  day  shut  out 
any  view  of  the  mountains.  By  nightfall  we  were 
nearly  at  tree-line  and  found  ourselves  surrounded 
by  unbroken  forests.  No  suitable  place  for  a  camp 
could  be  found  on  the  mountain  side,  and  in  despera- 
tion we  unpacked  our  horses  in  thick  woods.  Our 
poor  horses  were  turned  loose  in  deep  snow  where 
there  was  nothing  to  eat.  Avalanches  of  snow  fell 
from  the  trees  at  every  stroke  of  the  axe  and  several 
times  put  out  our  struggling  fire. 

In  the  morning  eighteen  inches  of  snow  covered 
the  ground.  Peyto  had  a  hard  tramp  up  the  mount- 
ain for  our  horses,  which  had  fasted  the  long  wintry 
night.    Packing  up  was  trying  work,  as   it  was 


!; 


'Ill 


'm 


'  *^ 


#** 


1  I 


(M 


I  > 


ii; 


194 


TTbe  KocMee  of  CanaDa 


impossible  to  get  thoroughly  warm,  and  even  our 
gloves  were  frozen.  Every  rope  and  canvas  cover  v/as 
stiff  with  granular  ice,  making  them  weigh  twice  as 
much  as  usual.  While  being  packed,  our  famished 
horses  bit  off  bark  and  twigs  from  the  neighbouring 
bushes. 

Our  camp  had  been  high  on  a  mountain  whence 
we  could  see  the  deep  Blaeberry  valley  to  the  west, 
while  more  to  the  south  lay  the  pass  which  we  were 
trying  to  reach.  We  continued  to  make  a  traverse 
of  the  mountain  side,  which  was  heavily  wooded  and 
intersected  by  several  ravines.  We  were  just  started 
on  our  march  when  a  thick  snow-storm  commenced 
and  shut  out  every  landmark.  The  general  slope  of 
the  mountain  and  the  compass  were  our  only  guides. 
The  steep-banked  gullies  gave  us  several  exasperat- 
ing climbs  or  forced  us  to  descend  long  distances  to 
find  a  safe  way  across,  and  eventually  one  of  them 
compelled  us  to  descend  to  the  bottom  of  the  valley, 
running,  fortunately,  in  the  same  direction  that  we 
wished  to  go.  It  led  no  doubt  to  the  pass,  though 
Peyto  could  not  recognise  any  familiar  landmarks  in 
the  heavy  storm.  Another  twenty-four  hours  of 
storm  would  have  made  our  position  rather  serious. 
The  snow  was  now  over  two  feet  deep  and  increased 
as  we  approached  the  pass.  Peyto  and  1  went  ahead 
and  broke  a  path  for  the  horses,  but  even  then  some 
of  them  lay  down  in  the  snow  and  groaned  pitifully, 
for  they  had  had  very  poor  feed  throughout  the  en- 
tire trip  and  none  during  the  past  night.    Urging 


en  our 
/er  was 
A'ice  as 
mished 
Douring 

whence 
e  west, 
^e  were 
traverse 
Jed  and 
;  started 
menced 
slope  of 
guides, 
asperat- 
mces  to 
Df  them 
valley, 
hat  we 
though 
larks  in 
Durs  of 
serious, 
creased 
t  ahead 
n  some 
(itifuUy, 
the  en- 
Urging 


< 

0. 
IT 

< 

ca 

u> 

z 

H 
u. 
O 

t 

i 
z 
3 


1  '  i 


I 


II 


i 


I! 
I  I 


I 

1 

\ 

I, 

1 

h 

1 

1 

{ f 


i  i 


«:  I 
1  ij   1 

1        ; 

i 

1 

1', 

u 

iki 

4, 

fteapu  Snowfall  an^  a  TKfllntri?  Camp    195 

them  on,  we  continued  marching  and  were  glad  to 
find  the  slope  becoming  more  and  more  gentle,  till 
at  length  a  level  space  with  the  clouds  beyond 
showed  that  the  pass  summit  had  been  reached. 
We  made  camp  in  three  feet  of  snow  and  turned  our 
horses  out  in  a  meadow,  where  they  got  some  grass 
by  pawing  away  the  snow.    Tall  spruces  surrounded 
the  meadow,  which  was  a  uniform  white  expanse 
unbroken  by  any  projecting  branch  or  bush.    Clouds 
and  occasional  snow-storms  made  a  wintry  sky  and 
towards  evening  the  sun  broke  through  and  cast  a 
cheerful  light  over  a  massive  mountain  to  the  west. 
Our  camp  at  this  point  was  at  the  head  of  the 
north  branch  of  the  Kicking  Horse  River,  and  every 
step  would  now  lead  us  nearer  civilisation  and  to 
lower  altitudes.    In  three  days,  after  having  been  ex- 
posed for  more  than  two  weeks  to  nearly  constant 
storms,  we  reached  Field,  where  there  was  no  snow 
and  even  a  few  autumn  flowers  were  in  blossom. 


1''l 


1^     j 


CHAPTER  XII 


:      t 


PLAN  TO  EXPLORE  AN  INTERESTING  REGION  —  DESOLATION 
VALLEY  —  UNUSUAL  AUGUST  SNOW-STORMS  —  FIRST  VIEW 
OF  MORAINE  LAKE  —  ITS  MARVELLOUS  BEAUTY  —  WE  IN- 
VESTIGATE A  NEIGHBOURING  STREAM  —  ALPINE  LAKES  — 
SLOW  PROGRESS  THROUGH  THE  PATHLESS  WOODS  —  A 
DESERTED  MINING  CAMP — FIND  SOME  USEFUL  PROVIS- 
IONS—  OUR  HORSES  DISAPPEAR  —  ALONE  IN  THE  WILDER- 
NESS—  RELIEF  AT  LAST  —  MAGNIFICENT  VIEW  OF  THE 
VERMILION  PASS  —  ANOTHER  LARGE  LAKE  DISCOVERED  — 
CURIOUS  IMPURITIES  IN  THE  WATER  —  EXPLORE  TWO  VAL- 
LEYS IN  BRITISH  COLUMBIA  —  A  PROSPECTOR'S  CAMP  — 
PEYTO'S  HORSES  LEAVE  HIM  —  A  TREACHEROUS  RAFT  — 
BAFFLED  BY  MINERS'  TRAILS  —  REAL  SOURCE  OF  THE 
VERMILION  —  AN  ENCHANTED  MOUNTAIN  —  THE  RIVER 
DIVIDES  INTO  MANY  SMALL  STREAMS  —  TRYING  DESCENT 
OF  THE  OTTERTAIL  RIVER  —  A  PAINFUL  ACCIDENT  —  A 
TEN-HOUR  MARCH  —  BEAUTY  OF  o'HARA  LAKE 


I'.  ■    *»  '      I 


A  REGION  that  is  sure  to  be  popular  in  the 
near  future  lies  south  of  Lake  Louise.  For 
many  years  it  had  been  an  object  of  my 
ambition  to  explore  this  part  of  the  Rockies,  which, 
though  skirted  on  two  sides  by  the  railroad,  was  not 
mapped  in  its  interior.  My  plan  to  enter  this  region 
was  at  length,  in  1899,  perfected.    More  precisely  it 

might  be  described  as  the  Summit  Range  of  the 

196 


\ 


Zo  fiiplore  an  Interedting  Itegion      197 

Rockies  between  the  Bow  River  on  the  east,  the 
Vermilion  and  Ottertail  rivers  on  the  west,  the  Kick- 
ing Horse  Pass  on  the  north,  and  the  Vermilion  Pass 
on  the  south.  It  was  my  idea  to  skirt  round  the 
outer  edge  of  this  nearly  rectangular  block  of  mount- 
ains, whose  area  was  about  three  hundred  square 
miles,  and  to  ascend  every  stream  and  valley  which 
offered  a  route  into  the  interior. 

To  facilitate  our  progress  through  an  unmapped 
and  trailless  region,  where  good  nature  and  patience 
would,  no  doubt,  be  put  to  the  final  test  in  over- 
coming countless  unforeseen  obstacles,  1  reduced  my 
outfit  to  the  minimum  size.  It  consisted  of  one  man, 
Ross  Peecock,  upon  whose  good  nature  1  justly 
placed  great  reliance,  and  four  horses,  two  of  which 
we  rode. 

We  left  the  chalet  at  Lake  Louise  on  the  1 3th  of 
August,  and  crossing  the  bridge  which  had  recently 
been  made  over  the  stream  from  the  lake,  left  the 
trail  and  entered  the  woods.  Following  a  nearly 
level  traverse,  we  reached  the  mouth  of  Paradise 
Valley  in  two  hours.  Our  journey  for  the  next  two 
or  three  hours  was  through  swampy  meadows  or 
heavy  forests,  till  at  length  the  slopes  falling  away 
to  the  south,  and  glimpses  of  new  mountains  appear- 
ing '.'  "ough  the  trees,  showed  that  Desolation  Val- 
ley had  been  reached.  The  woods  were  open  and 
easy  to  travel.  As  we  descended  some  gently  slop- 
ing meadows,  the  grand  range  of  jagged  peaks  on 
the  south  of  Desolation  Valley  came  into  view.    A 


ti 


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1; 
i 


i 


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i 

■r 


!  1 
I 


a ' 


n^^ 


198 


Zbe  'RocMee  of  Canada 


>  ' 


few  minutes  later  we  were  at  the  border  of  the 
valley  stream,  which  flows  in  shallow  rapids  over  a 
bed  of  rusty-coloured  stones.  We  made  camp  higher 
up  the  valley,  where  the  stream  expands  to  a  width 
of  one  hundred  yards  and  makes  a  chain  of  pools 
decorated  with  low  islands.  A  strong  south  wind 
and  threatening  sky  caused  us  to  put  our  tent  up 
quickly,  as  a  storm  could  be  seen  coming  over  the 
mountains,  and  in  a  short  time  a  warm  summer  rain 
was  falling. 

Showers  fell  during  the  night  and  developed  into 
a  continuous  downpour  all  the  following  day.  It 
grew  cooler,  and  in  the  early  evening  a  slight  whit- 
ening of  snow  appeared  on  the  flanks  of  Mt.  Temple, 
opposite  us.  About  ten  o'clock  at  night  the  rain 
suddenly  changed  to  snow. 

A  foot  of  snow  lay  on  the  ground  in  the  morn- 
ing and  the  storm  continuing  all  day,  added  another 
six  inches  by  evening.  This  August  snow-storm, 
at  an  altitude  of  less  than  six  thousand  feet,  is  the 
most  remarkable  freak  of  weather  that  1  have  ever 
experienced. 

The  snow-storm  ceased  in  the  night  and  by  morn- 
ing there  were  signs  of  clearing.  The  snow  settled 
rapidly,  though  there  was  but  little  sun.  Overcome 
by  our  enforced  idleness  of  two  days,  1  set  out  in 
the  afternoon  for  a  tramp  up  the  valley.  Some  years 
before,  Allen  and  I  had  seen  a  fine  lake  in  this  valley 
from  the  sides  of  Mt.  Temple,  and  1  hoped  now  to 
find  it.    1  walked  about  a  mile  and  a  half  and  came 


22B9aB»iJ!E' 


eiS«<SSSBii 


,  .  -  ->'-:y — 


flDoraine  Xalie 


199 


to  a  ravine,  where  a  roaring  cascade,  encumbered 
with  logs  and  great  boulders,  comes  out  of  the  valley 
to  the  south-east.  I  got  across  on  a  slippery  log,  and 
after  another  mile,  came  to  a  massive  pile  of  stones, 
where  the  water  gurgles  as  it  rushes  along  in  sub- 
terranean channels.  Ascending  a  ridge  about  fifty 
feet  high,  there  lay  before  me  one  of  the  most  beauti- 
ful lakes  that  I  have  ever  seen. 

This  lake,  which  I  called  "Moraine  Lake,"  from 
the  ridge  of  glacial  formation  at  its  lower  end,  is 
about  a  mile  and  a  half  long.  A  green  forest  covers 
the  north  shore,  while  the  opposite  side  is  overhung 
by  a  high  precipice.  Two  large  piles  of  debris 
from  the  mountains  dip  into  the  lake  and  encroach 
upon  its  surface  in  semicircular  lines.  An  imposing 
cliff,  like  a  Tower  of  Babel,  makes  a  grand  terminus 
to  the  range  of  mountains  on  this  side  of  the  valley. 
Beyond  the  water  is  a  succession  of  high  peaks  ris- 
ing five  or  six  thousand  feet  above  it,  with  a  few 
short  glaciers  among  them.  The  water  is  very  clear 
and  of  the  characteristic  blue-green  colour.  A  num- 
ber of  logs  were  floating  on  it  in  various  places, 
while  others  crowded  the  shore  and  raised  the  water 
level  by  damming  up  the  outlet  stream.  Part  of  the 
water  escapes  by  subterranean  channels  among  the 
quartzite  and  shale  ledges  of  the  moraine,  and  the  rest 
flows  out  at  the  north-west  end  through  an  im- 
mense mass  of  logs.  I  think  these  trees  have  been 
stripped  down  by  snow-slides  and  hurled  into  the 
lake  during  some  recent  winter. 


'«n 


I 


,ii 


w 


ii 


200 


^be  ItocMed  of  Canada 


I  }i 


At  the  time  of  my  arrival  the  lake  was  partly 
calm  and  reflected  the  rough  escarpments  and  cliffs 
from  its  surface.  No  scene  has  ever  given  me  an 
equal  impression  of  inspiring  solitude  and  rugged 
grandeur.  I  stood  on  a  great  stone  of  the  moraine 
where,  from  a  slight  elevation,  a  magnificent  view 
of  the  lake  lay  before  me,  and  while  studying  the 
details  of  this  unknown  and  unvisited  spot,  spent 
the  happiest  half-hour  of  my  life. 

Elated  with  this  beautiful  discovery,  I  followed 
the  ridge,  and  after  crossing  the  outlet  stream,  went 
back  to  camp  by  a  different  route,  firmly  decided 
that  no  time  should  be  lost  in  moving  our  camp  to 
the  shores  of  Moraine  Lake.  I  related  my  trip  to 
Ross  while  we  ate  supper  and  picked  the  bones  of  a 
grouse  we  had  killed. 

We  were  up  at  five  o'clock  the  next  morning. 
The  weather  was  beautifully  clear  and  only  six 
inches  of  snow  were  left.  A  potentilla,  a  bushy 
plant  covered  with  bright  yellow  fiowers,  which 
grew  inside  our  tent,  had  cheered  us  for  several 
stormy  days.  Out  of  the  thousands  of  flowers  in 
this  valley,  it  alone  had  escaped  the  snow  by  the 
chance  of  our  tent's  protection.  However,  one  of 
our  hungry  horses  noticed  the  plant  as  the  only 
green  thing  in  sight  and  quickly  consumed  it. 

We  reached  the  lake  in  an  hour  and  made  camp 
a  short  distance  down  the  left  bank.  The  snow 
was  completely  gone  near  its  shore,  because,  for 
some  reason,  much  less  had  fallen  here  than  farther 


i1 


11^ 

Iff 


) 


Moraine  Lake. 


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Mk. 


TS^mtuni: 


1t0  flDarpcUoue  iBeautt 


20 1 


down  the  valley.  We  spread  our  blankets  on  the 
ground  in  the  bright  sun,  to  dry.  While  Ross  was 
putting  things  in  order  I  hurried  over  to  the  moraine 
ridge  with  my  large  camera  and  photographed  the 
lake.  The  effects  were  fine,  and  some  misty  clouds 
were  rolling  over  the  high  mountain  peaks.  While 
I  was  at  this  Ross  caught  a  fine  trout,  which  we  ate 
for  lunch.  In  the  afternoon  we  walked  to  the  other 
end  of  the  lake  and,  though  the  country  was  open, 
were  surprised  to  find  that  it  required  forty  minutes. 
From  this  end  a  narrow  gorge  may  be  seen  across 
the  lake,  above  which  is  a  hanging  glacier  and  an 
imposing  snow  mountain  of  great  height.  The 
woods  in  this  part  of  the  valley  had  been  burnt  over 
a  long  time  ago.  The  new  trees  are  about  fifty 
years  old,  so  that  the  general  appearance  is  that  of  a 
green  forest.  Some  of  the  trees  destroyed  by  the 
old  fire  were  very  large,  as  is  shown  by  logs  three 
or  four  feet  in  diameter. 

The  mountains  roared  all  day.  Repeated  ava- 
lanches of  snow  came  from  Mt.  Temple,  and  the 
long  winding  streams  could  be  seen  moving  among 
the  cliffs,  attended  by  a  noise  like  thunder.  In  the 
evening  a  considerable  rock-slide  fell  on  a  slope 
across  the  lake.  Several  great  masses  of  stone  came 
off  the  mountain  and  descended  in  tremendous  leaps, 
making  a  ripping  sound  like  that  of  a  cannon-ball. 
One  of  these  struck  a  large  stone  and  burst  into 
pieces  with  a  loud  report  and  a  cloud  of  dust. 

The  site  of  our  camp  was  delightful.    The  ground 


f 


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If 


1 


202 


tibe  "RocMcd  of  Canada 


was  smooth  and  hard  and  had  a  slight  slope  towards 
the  water.  The  seasoned  driftwood  along  the  shore 
made  the  best  kind  of  camp-fire  and  the  balsam  trees 
behind  our  tent  gave  us  fine  flat  boughs  for  our  beds. 
From  a  large  log  in  the  lake,  just  in  front  of  our  tent, 
we  caught  ten  trout  in  the  evening.  We  got  a  long 
pole  and  attached  two  hooks  to  the  smaller  end.  To 
the  other,  we  tied  a  line,  and  then  giving  the  pole  a 
shove,  it  carried  the  hooks  far  out  into  the  lake.  In 
a  moment  the  pole  could  be  seen  to  move  and  then 
to  swim  away,  this  way  and  that,  showing  a  fish 
had  taken  the  bait.  We  soon  had  all  we  wanted 
and  a  great  swarm  of  hungry  fish  appeared  in  the 
clear  water  under  our  floating  dock.  They  are  a 
kind  of  speckled  trout,  and  the  largest  was  seventeen 
and  one-half  inches  long,  though  none  were  less  than 
fourteen  inches.  We  had  fresh  fish  from  the  lake  at 
five  minutes'  notice  for  every  meal  thereafter. 

A  stream  enters  the  valley  about  one  mile  below 
the  lake.  It  comes  from  the  south-east  beyond  the 
curious  and  impressive  rock  cliff,  which  we  called 
the  Tower  of  Babel.  On  the  :9th  we  started  to 
explore  the  valley  whence  it  came.  1  carried  my 
camera,  and  Ross  our  luncheon  and  a  pail  in  which 
to  make  hot  coffee.  Just  as  we  were  off,  the  sun 
came  over  the  mountain  and  illumined  our  pretty 
tent  with  a  flood  of  light,  while  the  dark  lake  and 
cliff  beyond  seemed  almost  gloomy  by  contrast.  We 
scrambled  over  the  log  dam  and  the  massive  ledges 
of  the  moraine,  to  the  other  side.    The  woods  were 


a  fleidbDourina  Stream 


203 


moist  with  night  dew  and  a  myriad  drops  of  water, 
like  rounded  diamonds,  were  delicately  poised  on  the 
tender  leaves  of  the  white-flowered  rhododendron. 
No  other  bush  holds  so  much  rain  or  dew  on  its 
foliage,  and  to  avoid  the  showers  we  used  long  sticks 
to  shake  them  as  we  advanced.  We  climbed  to  the 
base  of  the  Tower  of  Babel  in  half  an  hour,  and  looked 
down  into  a  new  valley.  It  was  not  far  to  the 
stream,  and  in  a  short  time  we  stood  upon  its  bank. 
Open  woods  made  our  way  easy  through  this  new 
and  pleasing  region.  Suddenly  a  long  stretch  of  water 
opened  before  us  and  disclosed  a  beautiful  scene. 
Beyond  the  pretty  banks  of  the  stream,  lined  with 
birch  and  willow  bushes,  appeared  in  the  distance 
an  Alpine  peak,  fringed  with  a  narrow  border  of  ice 
near  its  tooth-like  crest.  In  the  middle  distance  on 
the  left  stood  a  forest,  while  on  the  right,  there  was 
an  open  grassy  meadow.  The  shallow  stream  flowed 
gently  in  an  extended  channel,  where  the  quiet 
surface,  interrupted  by  stones  or  the  ripples  of  slow 
moving  water,  reflected  the  distant  peak.  Every- 
thing in  these  surroundings  helped  to  make  one  of 
the  most  beautiful  pictures  that  1  have  ever  seen  in 
the  Rockies.  I  was  very  anxious  for  a  photograph 
of  this  spot,  so  while  Ross  lay  on  a  mossy  bank, 
I  searched  for  a  good  position  and  endeavoured 
to  group  the  bushy  banks  and  mountains  in  har- 
monious lines.  We  were  very  much  pleased  with 
the  place,  and  Ross  suggested  that,  since  the  other 
was  called  Desolation  Valley,   we  might  call  this 


m 


Vli", 


I  >9< 


I     li 


rni 


V 


t  I 


204 


Zbe  fRocinlcs  ot  Canaba 


"Consolation  Valley,"  a  name  that  seemed  quite 
appropriate. 

On  the  south  side  of  this  valley  is  a  rock  pre- 
cipice, commencing  with  the  Tower  of  Babel,  and 
then  gradually  increasing  in  height  eastward,  till  it 
terminates  in  the  Alpine  peak  just  described.  The 
face  of  the  wall  is  mo-e  nearly  perpendicular  than  any 
1  have  seen.  Some  of  the  cliffs,  for  nearly  a  thousand 
feet,  must  have  an  angle  of  between  eighty-five  and 
eighty-eight  degrees,  while  the  extreme  height  is 
about  four  thousand  feet  from  the  valley. 

We  followed  tne  stream  for  some  distance  and 
came  to  a  small  lake.  Beyond  this  was  another,  of 
similar  size,  separated  from  it  only  by  a  narrow  ridge 
of  stones.  Leaving  Ross  at  the  first  and  telling  him 
to  expect  me  back  in  two  hours,  1  continued  to  ex- 
plore the  valley.  The  second  lake  rests  against  a 
glacier  which  discharges  pieces  of  ice  and  solid  snow 
into  the  water.  Some  of  these  were  floai^ng  about 
like  small  icebergs,  and  others  were  stranded  on 
rough  stones  of  the  shore.  The  ripples  were  flash- 
ing in  sunlight,  and  some  ducks  were  swimming 
over  the  water.  Among  the  massive  ledges  of  this 
old  moraine  a  few  birds  were  flitting  about,  and  I 
was  delighted  to  hear  again  the  plaintive  song  of  the 
white-crested  sparrow.  This  was  a  characteristic 
upland  lake  of  the  Rockies,  where  glaciers,  moraine, 
and  forest  made  a  perfect  picture  of  Alpine  beauty.  I 
walked  round  the  lake  to  the  music  of  rivulets  and 
the  frightened  squeak  of  picas  through  meadows  of 


(•s 


Ui 


i; 


quite 


k  pre- 
j1,  and 
,  till  it 
.  The 
an  any 
ousand 
ive  and 
sight  is 

ice  and 
her,  of 
w  ridge 
ing  him 
i  to  ex- 
jainst  a 
d  snow 
I  about 
ded  on 
e  flash- 
mming 
of  this 
,  and  I 
y  of  the 
:teristic 
loraine, 
uty.    I 
ets  and 
ows  of 


< 
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1'   ! 

aiplne  Xafte0 


205 


i     K'< 


flowers,  recently  covered  by  snow  and  beaten  down 
by  storms,  but  as  fresh  and  bright  in  colour  as  ever. 
The  blue  sky  above  was  flecked  by  snowy  clouds, 
and  the  sun's  heat  made  frequent  avalanches  of  ice  on 
the  opposite  mountain. 

I  climbed  more  than  one  thousand  feet  on  the 
ridge  north-east  of  the  lake,  and  saw  two  passes,  one 
opening  to  the  east,  and  the  other  on  the  left,  proba- 
bly into  the  Bow  valley.  Later  explorations  would 
solve  these  problems.  As  1  was  climbing,  the  sky 
suddenly  thickened  and  became  threatening.  The 
air  grew  colder  and  seemed  to  be  ready  for  snow,  so 
that  as  a  sufficient  height  had  been  reached  to  com- 
mand a  view  of  the  entire  valley,  1  returned  to  the 
lake  where  Ross  was  waiting.  Here  1  had  a  delicious 
lunch  of  bread,  marmalade,  and  coffee. 

We  followed  the  stream  bank  and  had  an  easy 
trip  back  to  our  camp.  In  the  evening  we  caught  a 
dozen  trout  to  take  with  us  on  the  next  day's  march, 
for  it  was  now  necessary  to  continue  our  journey 
towards  the  Vermilion  Pass. 

August  20th.  The  weather  was  threatening  in 
the  morning.  Bands  of  mist  swept  above  the  lake 
and  against  the  mountains,  driven  by  strong  winds 
in  opposite  directions,  making  grand  cloud  effects. 
We  bade  farewell  to  Moraine  Lake  about  10.  "^o,  and 
followed  the  left  bank  of  the  stream,  past  our  first 
camp,  to  where  this  valley  opens  into  that  of  the 
Bow.  Here  we  turned  south,  crossed  the  stream, 
and  commenced  to  ascend  the  ridge  which  faces  the 


,;rn 


I'; 


I 


'1 


'  '4^1 


2o6 


ZTbe  'RocMee  of  Cana^a 


m  mm- 


Bow  valley.  We  soon  got  into  a  dense  forest  on  a 
steep  slope,  where  very  slow  progress  was  made  in 
spite  of  much  chopping  of  wood  and  urging  of  horses. 
Thinking  it  best  to  get  above  the  tree-line,  we  as- 
cended, and  for  a  time,  had  easy  travel,  but  presently 
came  to  a  long  rock-slide,  which  it  was  impossible 
to  get  above  or  to  cross.  Nothing  was  left  but  to 
descend  and  lose  all  our  hard-earned  climb.  These 
rock-slides  are  barren  piles  of  broken,  lichen-covered 
stones  of  considerable  size,  easy  for  a  man  to  scram- 
ble over,  but  impossible  for  horses.  Several  hundred 
feet  below  we  found  a  way  for  the  pack  animals,  and 
about  evening,  made  camp  in  the  woods  on  the 
mountain  side,  6600  feet  above  sea-level.  On  this 
shady  north  slope  some  snow  from  the  great  storm 
was  still  left.  As  we  unpacked  it  commenced  to 
rain,  and  a  drizzle  continued  until  morning. 

I  had  learned  from  Wilson  that  about  opposite  the 
station  of  Eldon,  there  is  an  old  copper  mine  and 
several  log  shacks  built  by  the  miners,  but  abandoned 
long  since.  As  it  was  in  an  upland  park  of  great 
beauty,  it  seemed  well  to  make  it  a  camping  place 
on  our  trip.  So  the  following  day  we  ascended 
wherever  any  obstacle  appeared  and  gradually  in- 
creased our  altitude.  Heavy  timber  and  swampy 
places  with  moss-covered  rock-slides  gave  us  great 
difficulty.  Ross  and  I  led  alternately,  for  it  appeared 
that  the  responsibility  of  finding  a  way  through  the 
unending  obstacles  and  of  cutting  trees  entailed  too 
much  labour  for  either  one  constantly.   Two  hours  of 


^^.^P~ylg;f_  ^~^ 


Slow  proare00 


207 


such  work  were  enough  to  exhaust  all  of  one's  good 
temper  and  patience.  It  was  surprising  with  what  a 
will  and  dash  either  of  us  would  commence  to  lead 
the  procession,  and  how,  after  a  time,  this  gave  way 
to  hopeless  despair.  Then  from  the  front  something 
like  this  would  be  heard.  "  It  is  absolutely  impossi- 
ble to  get  through  here.  There  is  a  rock-slide  on 
one  side  and  the  timber  is  piled  five  feet  high  on  the 
other."  "Then  why  don't  you  go  ahead?"  came 
from  the  rear.  "  Because  1  am  standing  on  the  edge 
of  a  cliff  twenty  feet  high."  About  such  times  we 
simply  changed  leadership,  and  while  one  rested  his 
nerves,  the  other  used  his  in  making  a  slow  advance. 
About  mid-afternoon  we  came  to  an  old  trail 
which  descended  the  slope  and  soon  led  us  to  groves 
of  Lyall's  larch  and  upland  meadows.  The  miners' 
cabins  appeared  above  us,  and  in  half  an  hour  we 
were  unsaddling  our  horses  in  this  miniature  deserted 
village.  Some  immense  larches  covered  the  ridge 
and  the  place  was  delightfully  open  and  beautiful. 
These  Alpine  meadows  have  a  wealth  of  colouring 
impossible  to  describe.  In  the  short  grass  a  multi- 
tude of  antennarias  grow  ;  their  leaves  covered  with 
a  whitish  down,  which  makes  a  silver  sheen  when 
wet  with  rain  and  turns  the  drops  to  pearls.  The 
square-stemmed  white  and  purple  bryanthus  revels 
in  these  meadows,  and  above  them  the  heads  of  ane- 
mones and  the  varied-coloured  painted-cup,  with  pur- 
ple, scarlet,  yellow,  white,  or  greenish  flowers,  make 
a  gay  display  of  colour.    These  are  the  commonest 


*  ,1 


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, 


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208 


JShc  ItocMee  of  Canaba 


plants,  but  you  will  see  bluebells,  larkspur,  vale- 
rian, forget-me-nots,  and  many  others  among  them. 

After  the  horses  were  turned  loose  and  our  tent 
set  up,  Ross  and  1  investigated  the  old  shacks.  They 
were  low  houses  about  twelve  feet  square  and  built 
of  logs.  Inside  one  of  them  were  some  rough 
sleeping  places,  strewn  with  boughs.  There  were 
two  bags  of  flour  and  several  others  containing 
coffee,  beans,  or  sugar.  In  a  rough  cupboard,  made 
of  a  box  nailed  to  the  wall,  were  several  dozen  tins 
of  tomatoes,  condensed  milk,  and  various  condi- 
ments. An  iron  stove  was  rusting  under  the  leaky 
roof,  and  the  porcupines  had  played  havoc  with  the 
flour  and  other  accessible  food,  much  of  which  was 
valueless.  We  took  a  supply  of  condensed  milk, 
sugar,  corn-starch,  and  tomatoes,  to  eke  out  our  pile 
of  provisions,  and  used  some  golde'^  syrup,  which 
we  discovered,  to  flavour  our  flap-jacks.  Ross  knew 
how  to  make  them  remarkably  light  and  wholesome. 

The  other  shack  was  dry  and  in  far  better  condi- 
tion, but  offered  nothing  to  our  purpose.  Suspended 
by  a  cotton  string  to  a  rusty  nail  in  the  roof,  was  a 
case  labelled  "  Five  Hundred  Detonating  Caps,"  and 
a  few  feet  away  on  the  floor  was  a  heavy  box  labelled 
"  Powder,"  which  probably  contained  enough  ex- 
plosive to  tear  a  hole  in  the  mountain  and  arouse 
the  natives  from  Banff  to  Laggan. 

During  the  afternoon  it  rained,  but  in  the  night  it 
grew  much  colder  and  began  to  snow.  The  weather 
was  still  dubious  in  the  morning,  though  the  sun 


^, 


H  De^erte^  flDinina  Camp 


209 


broke  through  the  clouds  by  noon.  1  ascended  a 
ridge  beyond  the  copper  mine,  which  was  not  far 
distant,  to  a  height  of  eight  thousand  feet,  and  got 
a  fine  view  of  the  Bow  valley  from  beyond  the 
Vermilion  Pass  to  the  river's  source,  a  sweep  of 
about  forty-five  miles.  In  the  afternoon  I  went  into 
a  beautiful  open  vale,  west  of  our  camp,  and  after 
climbing  the  ridge  beyond,  looked  down  on  a  fine 
lake  nearly  a  mile  in  length.  It  lay  several  hundred 
feet  below,  and  after  a  rapid  descent  through  a  thick 
woods,  1  found  myself  by  the  shore.  A  small  glac- 
ier and  a  barren  pile  of  moraine  debris  were  seen 
beyond  the  lake,  while  the  slopes  on  either  side  were 
more  cheerful  sweeps  of  forests  and  green  slides. 
The  shore  is  flat  and  mossy,  and  some  purple  asters 
and  bright  castilleias  made  a  pretty  colouring  among 
the  rough  quartzite  stones  and  broken  timber  lining 
the  water's  edge.  Two  young  ducks  were  playing 
on  the  blue  water. 

The  lake  sends  a  considerable  stream  towards  the 
Bow  and  is  joined  not  far  from  the  lake  by  another 
which  comes  from  the  open  vale  near  our  camp.  I 
crossed  the  outlet  stream  on  floating  logs,  which  had 
drifted  from  the  lake,  and  climbed  a  high  ridge  on  the 
other  side.  The  top  of  this  was  a  mass  of  tottering 
cliffs,  so  much  disintegrated  by  frost  and  weather 
that  they  seemed  dangerous  to  approach.  From 
this  1  saw  another  short  valley,  with  several  small 
lakes,  the  lowest  of  which  is  crescent-shaped.  Af- 
ter sketching  the  streams  and  mountains  I  descended 


14 


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Zbc  "RocMed  ot  Cana^a 


into  the  valley  and  then  made  my  way  back  to 
camp  through  the  woods,  trying  to  find  a  good 
route  for  our  horses.  The  last  mile  to  camp  was 
up  a  beautiful  torrent  with  grassy  banks  and  noble 
trees  on  either  side.  One  spruce  was  more  than 
four  feet  in  diameter.  This  whole  region,  for  a  mile 
or  more,  is  a  veritable  park  of  Lyall's  larch,  and 
abounds  in  picas,  marmots,  and  porcupines,  one  of 
which  1  came  upon  as  1  approached  camp. 

Towards  evening  the  weather  thickened,  and 
showers  of  sleet  and  snow  fell.  The  moon  was  a 
little  past  full,  and  during  the  cold  night,  it  broke 
through  the  clouds  and  mists  that  were  sweeping 
over  the  mountains.  The  cliffs  loomed  dark  through 
ghostly  and  fleeting  shrouds  of  fog,  and  the  sharp- 
lined  shadows  of  the  larches  above  us  were  thrown 
in  bright  moonlight  upon  our  ice-covered  tent. 
Rain  in  the  morning  made  the  fourteenth  day  of 
almost  consecutive  stormy  weather,  which  is  past 
all  precedent  for  the  month  of  August.  Much  de- 
layed already  by  storms,  it  was  necessary  to  make 
rapid  and  long  marches  henceforth.  However,  a 
new  contingency  had  arisen, —  our  horses  had  dis- 
appeared !  Ross  searched  for  them  all  the  morning, 
and  returned  about  two  p.m.,  saying  he  had  been 
nearly  to  Eldon,  in  the  Bow  valley,  east  of  our 
camp.  Again  in  the  evening  we  both  set  out,  I  up 
the  ridge,  and  Ross  towards  the  muskegs  and 
meadows  below  our  camp  to  the  north.  No  sign 
of  our  animals  was  discovered.     A  curious  effect 


m 


Onv  iDoveee  disappear 


21  I 


on  our  imagination  was  made  by  our  trying  to  hear 
the  bell.  Both  of  us  fancied  we  could  hear  it,  ring- 
ing constantly,  in  one  direction  or  another,  though 
we  could  not  agree  upon  the  locality. 

It  was  useless  to  waste  more  time  hunting  over 
the  vast  extent  of  open  country  that  surrounded  our 
camp,  so  1  decided  to  send  Ross  back  to  Laggan,  and 
then  by  rail  to  Banff,  for  more  horses,  or  another  man 
to  find  our  own.  Owing  to  the  cold  weather  I  had 
no  doubt  we  would  be  able  to  cross  the  streams 
which  come  out  of  Desolation  and  Paradise  valleys. 
In  the  morning  at  eight  o'clock  Ross  started  for  Laggan. 
Left  absolutely  alone  in  the  wilderness  for  the  first  time, 
1  spent  the  entire  morning  gathering  fire-wood  which 
the  miners  had  cut,  and  making  camp  comfortable  and 
neat.  At  night  I  banked  the  camp-fire,  and  in  the 
morning,  after  eleven  hours,  it  was  still  burning. 

/August  2^th.  Fog  and  snow  showers  were  the 
curtain  raiser  this  morning.  The  continuous  per- 
formance began  at  ten  o'clock  with  a  heavy  snow- 
storm, accompanied  by  a  rapidly  falling  barometer. 
The  best  weather  so  far  at  this  camp  has  been  merely 
a  temporary  cessation  of  either  rain,  wind,  or  snow. 
My  two  pairs  of  boots  and  a  pair  of  slippers  are 
alternately  drying  before  the  fire.  When  all  are 
soaked,  I  go  to  bed.  This  performance  repeated 
about  ten  times  makes  up  a  full  day. 

Ross  has  now  been  gone  for  two  days,  and  I  had 
almost  hoped  he  would  return  to-night.  The  baro- 
meter is  rising  steadily  at  last,  and  the  highest  peaks 


I,    I 


^be  ItocMee  of  Cana^a 

are  disclosed  through  clinging  clouds.  The  sun  at 
evening  shed  a  pale  golden  glow  through  the  larches, 
while  to  the  east  the  mountains  and  clouds  were 
bathed  in  a  rich  purple  light.  From  near  our  tent 
the  valley  can  be  seen  as  it  sweeps  down  in  magni- 
ficent forest  slopes,  making  a  descent  of  about  three 
thousand  feet  to  the  Bow  River,  three  or  four  miles 
distant.  The  railroad  can  be  seen  nearly  from  Banff 
to  Laggan,  and  the  "  Imperial  Flyer  "  is  in  view  for 
forty-five  minutes,  creeping  apparently  like  a  snail 
through  the  valley.  It  is  getting  colder,  and  at 
seven  o'clock  the  tent  is  stiff  as  parchment  with  ice. 

August  26th.  The  sun  shone  and  the  barometer 
was  rising.  I  could  still  hear  that  bell  ringing,  but 
paid  no  attention  to  my  fancies.  However,  it  con- 
tinued, and  at  length  I  imagined  I  could  hear  the 
tramping  of  horses.  Then  the  bell  sounded  louder 
than  ever.  I  got  up,  dressed  hastily,  and  came  out 
of  the  tent  just  in  time  to  see  all  our  horses  come 
galloping  into  camp  !  Ross  would  arrive  in  a  few 
minutes,  no  doubt,  and  I  gave  the  horses  salt,  so 
they  would  stay  near  camp.  After  a  little,  I  tied 
one  to  a  tree  and  made  breakfast,  It  began  to  snow 
again  and  the  barometer  was  failing.  Why  did  Ross 
not  come,  and  where  had  the  horses  been  all  this 
time? 

I  climbed  the  ridge  in  the  hope  of  getting  a  shot 
at  a  sheep  I  had  seen  on  a  previous  trip,  or  at  least 
of  getting  some  ptarmigans  for  supper.  I  got  neither 
the  sheep  nor  the  ptarmigans,  but  thought  I  heard  far 


1 


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SKETCH  OF  A  PART  OF  THE  ROCKY   MOUNTAINS  BETWEEN  THE  KICKINQ-HORSE  AND  VERMILION  PASSES. 

FROM  A  ROUQH  SURVEY   BY  THE  AUTHOR. 


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Blone  In  tbe  MU^erne00 


213 


in  the  distance  the  sound  of  wood-chopping.  Relief 
at  last !  Ross  and  someone  else  were  coming  up 
from  Eldon  and  had  horses  with  them,  because  they 
were  cutting  trees  fallen  across  the  trail.  I  descended 
into  the  meadow,  where  a  coyote  was  hunting  the 
picas  and  marmots,  and  soon  reached  camp.  All 
was  as  I  left  it,  so  there  was  no  relief  after  all.  Ross 
had  been  gone  nearly  three  days,  and  it  occurred  to 
me  that  he  may  not  have  reached  Laggan  at  all. 
What  if  he  had  sprained  his  ankle,  or  met  with  some 
mishap  in  the  timber  and  rock-slides  of  the  pathless 
wilderness  between  here  and  Laggan  ? 

I  spent  the  afternoon  writing  notes,  while  snow 
fell  outside.  About  five  o'clock  I  heard  a  shout,  but 
my  imagination  of  late  had  been  playing  strange 
pranks.  A  moment  later  1  felt  sure  I  heard  more 
shouting.  1  answered  with  vigour,  and  putting  on 
fire-wood,  fanned  it  into  a  blaze.  Presently  shouts 
again  came  out  of  the  storm  from  the  ridge  above 
our  camp.  I  replied  repeatedly,  for  it  was  snowing 
hard,  and  a  dense  fog  through  which  only  the  near- 
est trees  were  visible,  and  those  but  little  beyond, 
appeared  like  ghostly  forms,  enveloped  everything. 
Two  riders  emerged  from  the  gloom,  and  I  recog- 
nised Tom  Lusk  and  Ross  Peecock.  I  served  the 
men  at  once  with  an  excellent  camp  dinner  of  bean 
soup,  broiled  ham,  tea,  bannoc^'s,  and  apple  sauce. 
For  dessert  I  proudly  set  forth  a  newly  discovered 
dish  made  of  cornstarch  blanc  mange  and  marma- 
lade, flavoured  with  Scotch  whiskey.    The  dinnei 


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214 


^be  IRocMcd  of  Cana^a 


was  pronounced  a  great  success,  and  the  orange 
pudding,  especially,  was  praised  by  Tom,  who 
smacked  the  flavoui  of  Scotch  with  gusto. 

I  told  about  the  horses  coming  into  camp,  and 
learned  how  Ross  had  reached  Laggan  in  five  hours 
and  gone  to  Banff  by  rail  that  day.  Here  he  saw 
Wilson,  and  returned  with  Tom  Lusk,  camping  the 
first  night  at  Hillsdale.  On  Saturday  they  reached 
Eldon  and  forded  the  Bow  in  four  feet  of  water,  as 
the  river  is  very  high.  The  Saskatchewan  at  Ed- 
monton is  in  great  flood  and  carrying  down  houses 
as  a  result  of  this  abnormal  weather  in  the  mount- 
ains. It  snowed  so  hard  all  night  that  the  poles 
bent  and  nearly  let  down  the  tent.  In  the  morning 
there  were  six  inches  of  new  snow  on  the  ground 
though  the  sun  was  struggling  through  the  clouds. 
The  brilliant  mountains  and  the  larch  trees,  bending 
their  branches  in  submission  to  the  burden  of  snow, 
made  a  marvellous  but  chilly  picture  for  midsummer. 

Tom  Lusk  packed  up  and  left  us  in  the  morning 
as  our  horses  had  discovered  themselves.  The 
newly  arrived  ponies  and  our  own  bit  and  kicked 
one  another,  for  cayuses  recognise  friends  or  ene- 
mies in  every  strange  outfit.  Tom  left  us  with  pro- 
testations of  his  unwillingness  to  go.  It  would 
have  been  dangerous  to  our  horses  to  travel  through 
the  woods  while  there  was  so  much  snow,  so  we 
remained  in  camp  an  entire  day,  and  on  the  28th  set 
out  towards  the  Vermilion  Pass,  by  traversing  the 
flanks  of  the  mountains,  as  we  had  done  hitherto. 


f 


nDagnificent  IDievp  of  tbe  IDermilion  paea  215 


We  followed  the  Eldon  trail  for  a  mile  and  a  half,  till 
we  were  one  thousand  feet  below  the  level  of  our 
camp  and  struck  into  the  woods.  Then  ensued  the 
most  miserable  day's  travel  yet  experienced.  Slushy 
snow  lay  deep  in  the  heavy  forest,  which,  though 
green,  was  blocked  by  many  fallen  trees  and  moss- 
covered  rocks,  very  trying  to  our  struggling  horses. 
The  bush  was  wet,  and  our  water-soaked  boots 
were  very  painful  from  cold.  Being  forced  by  the 
nature  of  the  slopes  to  ascend  constantly,  after  five 
hours'  travel,  we  came  to  the  crest  of  a  ridge  nearly 
at  tree-line.  From  this  a  magnificent  view  of  the 
Vermilion  Pass  was  disclosed.  Storm  Mountain 
and  Mt.  Ball  stood  in  massive  grandeur  under  a 
cloudy  sky  on  the  further  side  of  this  great  rent  in 
the  continental  watershed.  A  continuous  green 
forest  covered  the  pass  for  a  breadth  of  four  or  live 
miles,  sweeping  up  the  mountains  and  into  a  fine 
valley  which  appeared  on  our  right.  Into  this  we 
planned  to  descend,  and  afier  a  brief  survey  of  the 
mountains,  1  found  a  shallow  gully  apparently  suit- 
able for  our  purpose.  Following  the  fresh  tracks  of 
^  bear  we  urged  our  horses  forward,  and  got  safely 
.i(;  V  !  n  the  valley  bottom,  making  a  drop  of  nine 
hunt: V id  feet.  Here,  beside  a  fine  stream,  we  paused 
for  a  short  rest.  "  This  is  God's  covmtry,"  said  Ross, 
as  he  looked  around  on  the  open  mtadow  a»id  green 
forest  which  made  such  pleasant  contrast  with  the 
snowy  region  we  had  recently  left.  Our  horses 
were  no  less  pleased  than  we,  as  was  evident  by 


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Ube  'RocMee  of  Canaba 


their  looks  and  actions.  We  ascended  the  valley 
through  a  succession  of  flat  muskegs  and  woods, 
and  in  less  than  an  hour,  came  to  a  fine  lake,  where 
we  made  camp.  There  was  no  trail,  but  a  few  blaze 
marks  on  the  trees  showed  that  some  trapper  had 
visited  the  place.  After  a  hearty  dinner  and  four- 
teen hours  of  work,  we  slept  soundly  through  a 
rainy  night. 

The  weather  was  better  in  the  morning,  and 
leaving  Ross  at  camp  I  started  to  explore  the  upper 
end  of  the  lake  ;  '  /alley.  This  lake  runs  about 
north-west  and  sou,  -east  and  sends  a  stream  into 
the  Vermilion  Pass.  It  is  half  a  mile  wide  and  prob- 
ably three  miles  in  length.  One  of  its  most  curious 
features  is  a  crescent-shaped  dam  of  logs  and  tree 
roots  about  one  mile  from  the  lower  end.  This  ex- 
tends from  shore  to  shore,  and  probably  marks  the 
shallow  water  made  by  some  old  glacier  moraine.  1 
thought  at  first  of  naming  the  lake  from  this  circum- 
stance, but  was  unable  to  make  anything  euphonious 
out  of  **  log-dammed  lake,"  while  some  of  the  possi- 
bilities seemed  rather  breezy  and  western.  The 
water,  though  otherwise  pure  and  clear,  is  full  of 
black  spots  about  the  s"ze  of  a  pin  head.  Looking 
more  closely  I  saw  that  they  were  apparently  the 
larvas  of  some  insect,  armed  with  two  propelling 
flippers  with  which  they  move  through  the  water. 
Their  general  appearance  was  like  the  small  grey 
gnats  which  swarm  in  August  and  September. 
Among  them  a  few  fiery  red,  spider-like  creatures 


Bnotber  Xarge  Xafte  ZXecovereb       217 


\ 


were  seen  less  frequently.  From  this  unpleasant  and 
extraordinary  circumstance,  we  could  not  use  the 
lake  water,  but  found  a  fine  spring  near  our  camp. 
The  lake  is  full  offish,  of  which  Ross  caught  a  num- 
ber while  I  was  on  my  tramp.  They  are  speckled 
trout,  not  so  large  as  those  in  Moraine  Lake.  Their 
gills  are  uncommonly  red,  possibly  from  irritation  of 
the  larvae  in  the  water.  This  lake  at  its  lower  end  is 
less  impressive  than  others.  Some  high  glacier-cov- 
ered mountains  appeared  down  the  lake,  but  distance 
detracts  from  their  grandeur.  A  long  ridge  with  an 
even  slope  banded  with  light  green  where  snow- 
slides  had  swept  through  the  fo.  ts  extends  along 
the  north  side  of  the  valley  for  several  miles.  A  very 
high  and  precipitous  ridge  guards  the  other  side  of 
the  valley  and  comes  down  close  to  the  lake  in  some 
places. 

I  reached  the  other  end  of  the  lake  in  an  hour 
without  difficulty.  In  one  place  a  vertical  cliff  rises 
out  of  it,  but  I  found  a  narrow  ledge,  where,  in  water 
up  to  my  knees,  1  walked  round  its  base.  The  cliff 
continues  to  descend  vertically  below  the  water's 
surface  to  unknown  depths.  A  short  distance  beyond 
the  lake  is  a  precipice  with  a  glacier  at  the  top,  where 
a  stream  makes  a  fall  and  then  crossing  a  flat  enters 
the  lake.  Fording  this  stream  I  skirted  around  the 
lake  through  a  grove  of  magnificent  spruces  and 
climbed  a  grassy  slope  on  the  north.  This  was  cov- 
ered by  turf  and  mountain  flowers.  Thousands  of 
bluebells,  yellow  composites,  and  several  unfamiliar 


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218 


Z\)c  1<ocMe0  of  Cana^a 


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blossoms  made  this  warm  south-facing  slope  a  lovely 
garden.  1  came  upon  a  porcupine  and  its  young  off- 
spring browsing  on  the  succulent  herbs.  The  mother 
gave  me  a  nervous  look  and  ran  off,  basely  deserting 
its  little  one.  1  was  surprised  at  the  spirit  of  the 
little  baby  porcupine,  which  came  at  me  and  raised 
its  spines  and  tail  in  self-defence.  1  ascended  rapidly 
on  an  easy  incline  and  soon  began  to  get  splendid 
views  of  high  mountains  at  the  valley  head.  What 
were  these  strange  peaks  ?  The  broadening  view 
tempted  me  to  climb  ever  higher.  1  now  saw  the 
lake  in  perfect  outline,  and  began  to  get  better  ideas 
of  the  streams  and  mountains. 

At  nine  thousand  feet  I  stood  on  the  crest  of  a 
ridge  overlooking  the  Bow,  but  a  higher  peak  rose  to 
the  north.  The  rough  limestones  and  the  depth  of 
recently  fallen  snow  made  further  progress  rather 
hazardous  and  difficult.  A  beetling  precipice  faced 
the  Bow,  and  a  horrid  chasm  led  down  to  one  of 
those  short  valleys  near  our  camp  at  the  mine. 
Clouds  were  rolling  over  the  mountains,  momentarily 
revealing  new  features.  Suddenly  Mt.  Temple  ap- 
peared to  the  north-west.  The  pass  below  me  then 
connects  Consolation  Valley  with  this  one,  and  a 
long  ridge  separates  the  two  valleys  from  that  of  the 
Bow.  A  gap  breaks  through  the  ridge  at  the  head  of 
Consolation  Valley  and  leads  to  the  little  lake  near 
our  old  camp  at  the  copper  mine.  1  could  see  the 
south  side  of  some  of  the  jagged  peaks,  which  stand 
guardian  over  Moraine  L^ike,  and  among  them  lay  an 


£|:p[ore  Z\oo  IDallei^d 


219 


ice-field,  two  or  three  miles  long  which  terminates 
on  a  shelf  above  the  long  lake. 

My  sketching  of  streams,  lakes,  and  mountains, 
finished,  I  made  a  rapid  descent  to  the  valley.  The 
deep  snow  rolled  up  in  balls,  gathered  speed  and 
burst  below  and  around  me  as  1  glissaded  down  the 
upper  slopes.  Then  the  iron  nails  of  my  boots  made 
a  gritty  sound  on  the  sharp  limestone  of  the  bare 
mountain  sides  till  I  came  to  the  herbs  and  dwarfed 
trees  of  lower  level.  An  Alpine  meadow,  a  rock- 
slide,  and  the  upper  belt  of  larches  led  to  the  deep 
spruce  woods.  The  paths  of  winter  snow-slides  in- 
tersected these,  where  the  spruces  are  swept  away, 
the  bushes  downbent  and  gnarled,  and  the  broken 
trunks  of  trees  and  great  rocks  hurled  together  in 
chaotic  ruin.  Here  grow  the  mountain  ash,  willow, 
and  great  cow-parsnip.  1  was  soon  by  the  water  of 
the  lake,  rippling  against  its  mossy  log-strewn  shore. 
1  reached  camp  by  skirting  the  north  shore  and 
crossed  the  outlet  stream  on  a  long  dam  of  floating 
trees,  similar  to  the  crescent-shaped  one  a  mile  from 
the  lake's  end. 

August  )oth.  We  left  the  lake  and  descended 
the  valley  for  two  miles.  Leaving  the  stream  we 
turned  to  our  right  through  the  woods,  in  a  direction 
parallel  to  the  Vermilion  Pass,  so  that  we  might 
enter  the  next  valley  to  the  west.  We  got  very 
high  on  the  mountain  and  found  ourselves  in  a 
critical  place  among  cliffs,  where,  by  the  most  anx- 
ious manoeuvring,  we  finally  led  our  horses  to  a 


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{Tbe  'Rocftied  of  Cana^a 


steep  slope  which  we  descended  to  the  new  valley. 
1  was  nearly  hit  twice  by  large  stones,  which,  set  in 
motion  by  the  horses'  feet,  came  rolling  down  through 
the  trees.  After  a  march  of  four  hours  we  camped 
by  a  stream  among  some  spruces  more  than  one 
hundred  feet  high. 

It  rained  in  the  night  and  all  the  next  day,  turning 
to  snow  later.  On  the  following  morning  there 
were  twelve  inches  of  snow  on  the  ground,  though 
our  altitude  was  only  fifty-eight  hundred  feet.  The 
sun  came  out  in  the  morning  and  made  a  great  stir 
among  the  trees.  The  silence  of  mid-winter  was  in- 
terrupted by  the  dripping  of  water,  and  the  splash  of 
snow  falling  from  the  boughs.  In  the  afternoon  the 
snow  had  settled  so  much  that  1  set  out  to  explore 
the  valley,  in  which  there  might  be  a  lake.  An  hour 
of  walking  proved  there  was  no  lake  but  only  a  flat 
muskeg  at  the  valley  end.  Among  the  crags  and 
boulders  of  the  higher  mountains  a  number  of  glaciers 
appeared,  though  the  clouds  concealed  them  partially. 
Three  splendid  buttresses  project  from  the  cliff  on 
the  west  side  of  this  narrow  cleft  in  the  mountains, 
which  is  a  valley,  five  or  six  miles  long,  and  of  nobler 
appearance  than  the  other,  but  less  interesting  from 
the  absence  of  any  lake. 

On  the  2nd  of  September  we  left  this  place 
which  we  named  "  Rainy  Valley  "  from  the  per- 
petu. '  storms  during  our  visit,  and  pursued  our  way 
to  the  Vermilion  Pass.  1  was  surprised  to  see  that 
the  stream  from  Rainy  Valley  turns  to  the  west  and 


a  pro0pector'0  Camp 


221 


w  valley, 
ch,  set  in 
1  through 
I  camped 
than  one 

',  turning 
ng  there 
,  though 
et.  The 
jreat  stir 
'  was  in- 
iplash  of 
loon  the 

explore 
An  hour 
ily  a  flat 
ags  and 

glaciers 
)artially. 

cliff  on 
untains, 

f  nobler 
ng  from 

s  place 
le  per- 
)ur  way 
ee  that 
est  and 


and  flows  into  the  Vermilion  River.  We  had  been 
then  for  several  days  in  British  Columbia  without 
knowing  it.  Near  the  pass  summit,  we  took  the 
trail,  practically  the  first  one  we  had  been  on  for 
eighteen  days,  and  followed  the  Vermilion  River  for 
two  and  a  half  hours.  The  weather  was  warm  and 
fine  and  proved  the  first  day  without  rain  since 
leaving  Moraine  Lake.  A  broad  valley  presently 
opened  to  the  north-west,  so  we  crossed  the  Vermil- 
ion River  and  climbed  through  the  woods  for  a  mile 
or  so,  when  Ross  shouted  out  that  he  had  found  a 
blazed  trail.  Rejoiced  at  this  discovery  we  followed 
it  in  a  short  descent  to  a  swift,  clear  stream  about 
twenty-five  yards  wide.  Some  high  and  jagged 
peaks,  ten  or  twelve  miles  distant,  reared  their  sharp 
summits  toward  the  blue  sky  and  purple  clouds  of 
evening.  They  were  no  doubt  Hungabee  and  Delta- 
form,  the  triangular  giants  at  the  head  of  Paradise 
and  Desolation  valleys.  The  great  volume  of  water 
in  this  stream  proved  that  the  new  valley  was  much 
longer  than  any  we  had  explored.  We  were  delighted 
at  our  entrance  into  this  unmapped  country,  which 
seemed  full  of  promise  in  the  way  of  discovery. 

By  the  river  we  came  to  an  old  camp,  where  at 
first  a  gruesome  discovery  seemed  probable.  Cook- 
ing utensils  and  articles  of  clothing  were  strewn 
everywhere,  while  decayed  provisions  and  rotten 
skins  of  some  animals  gave  every  evidence  of  a  hasty 
departure,  or  possibly  death  by  starvation.  Piles  of 
copper,  lead,  and  iron  ore  showed  the  nature  of  the 


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222 


Zbe  Kochiee  of  Canada 


former  campers.  Half  expecting  to  find  a  skeleton, 
or  some  other  evidence  of  disaster,  as  we  poked 
among  these  relics,  there  suddenly  came  to  memory 
a  vague  report  of  how,  upon  one  occasion,  Peyto  and 
another  man  were  deserted  by  their  horses  some- 
where in  the  mountains,  though  the  exact  locality 
was  surrounded  by  mystery.  This  then  was  no 
doubt  the  spot.  They  had  to  walk  back  to  the  rail- 
road and  cross  the  Bow  on  a  hastily  constructed  raft. 
In  midstream  the  raft  began  to  dissolve  away,  and 
the  passengers,  who  were  paddling  for  the  opposite 
shore  with  all  their  might,  sank  down  into  the  icy 
waters  of  the  swelling  river.  With  head  and  shoulders 
above  the  water  as  the  last  sticks  floated  away,  they 
reached  the  shore  in  safety. 

We  camped  on  a  hard  gravelly  meadow  farther 
up  the  river.  A  heavy  dew  fell  in  the  cold  shadows 
as  we  set  up  the  tent  at  five  o'clock.  The  weather 
was  again  dull  in  the  morning  as  we  marched  up  the 
valley.  Some  teepee  poles  at  various  places  showed 
that  the  Indians  hunt  here  for  wild  goats.  Their 
white  wool  appeared  on  the  bushes,  and  near  some 
of  the  Indian  camps  we  saw  a  great  number  of  bones 
and  wool  which  the  squaws  scrape  off  the  hides  be- 
fore dressing  them  into  leather. 

Leaving  Ross  to  make  camp,  after  we  had  gone 
about  six  miles  up  the  valley,  I  set  out  after  lunch  to 
explore  it  further.  The  trail  is  very  poor  in  the  upper 
part  of  this  valley.  After  walking  about  five  miles  I 
felt  that  it  would  be  impossible  to  reach  the  end 


skeleton, 
ve  poked 
)  memory 
Peyto  and 
ies  some- 
:t  locality 
I  was  no 
3  the  rail- 
icted  raft, 
way,  and 
opposite 
:o  the  icy 
shoulders 
vay,  they 

iw  farther 
shadows 
J  weather 
ed  up  the 
s  showed 
5.  Their 
lear  some 
■  of  bones 
hides  be- 

had  gone 
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the  upper 
ve  miles  1 
I  the  end 


PASS  BETWEEN  O'HARA  AND   PROSPECTOR'S  VALLEYS 


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£nb  of  tbe  IDallC!? 


223 


before  dark  and  decided  to  change  my  plan.  If  I  could 
cross  the  stream,  which  was  here  much  reduced  in 
size,  1  could  climb  a  long  way  on  the  opposite  slope 
and  possibly  see  the  entire  valley  well  enough  to 
sketch  it  accurately.  A  log  projected  half-way  across 
the  stream,  from  which  1  jumped  into  the  water,  and 
with  two  or  three  running  steps  was  on  the  other 
side.  1  climbed  the  half-barren  slopes  rapidly  where 
grew  some  flowers  recently  uncovered  by  snows  of 
a  winter  avalanche.  The  yellow  Alpine  lily  —  one 
of  the  earliest  of  spring  flowers  — was  in  blossom, 
together  with  the  white  anemone,  whose  stamens 
were  all  eaten  off  by  insects,  as  a  summing  up  of  ad- 
versity. From  a  height  of  seventy-two  hundred  feet 
at  five  o'clock,  I  saw  the  pass  which  leads  into  the 
valley  at  I  ake  O'Hara.  1  recognised  its  curious  out- 
line from  a  trip  made  some  years  before.  On  the 
north  were  the  high  mountains  of  the  Desolation 
Range  near  Moraine  Lake,  with  Mt.  Deltaform  tow- 
ering over  all.  A  small  lake  lies  part  way  up  its 
heavily  wooded  flanks,  but  its  upper  precipices  of  ice 
and  rock  seemed  very  difficult  of  ascent.  There  are 
about  ten  of  these  sharp  peaks,  between  nine  and 
eleven  thousand  feet  high,  and  as  they  are  precipit- 
ous on  the  other  side,  and  apparently  very  thor- 
oughly guarded  on  the  south  and  east,  they  will 
make  fine  problems  for  future  climbs.  1  reached 
camp  at  dark,  after  thirteen  hours  of  walking  and 
climbing. 

In  the  morning,  we  packed  up  and  moved  out  of 


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224 


(Tbe  'RocMes  of  Canada 


this,  which  we  called  "  Prospector's  Valley,"  from  the 
fact  of  our  finding  the  old  camp  near  its  entrance.  It 
is  about  fifteen  miles  long,  nearly  straight,  and  covered 
with  green  forests  throughout.  About  one  mile  from 
the  Vermilion,  the  stream  becomes  narrow  as  it  flows 
between  rocky  walls.  Then  it  plunges  by  a  fearful 
fall  of  about  f  fty  feet  into  a  dark  canyon.  The  rocks 
are  white  or  yellow,  but  stained  in  places  red  or 
black  by  iron.  The  clear  blue  water  flows  swiftly 
over  its  white  bed  into  a  deep  pool  and  then  makes  a 
leap  into  the  dark  canyon  with  a  roar  that  may  be 
heard  for  miles.  After  the  junction  of  this  stream  and 
the  other  that  comes  from  the  pass,  the  Vermilion 
becomes  a  considerable  river  and  m.^de  us  choose 
our  fording-places  more  carefully.  The  stream  that 
comes  from  Prospector's  Valley  is  larger  than  the 
other.  After  marching  two  hours  more  we  placed 
our  camp  by  an  iron  spring,  which  gives  the  name  to 
the  Vermilion  River,  and  lies  between  the  two  great 
forks  of  the  river.  The  river  bubbles  up  in  several 
green  pools,  and  flows  over  the  ground,  which  is 
stained  yellow.  The  Indians  burn  this  soil  and  turn 
it  to  ii  bright  red,  when  it  is  used  as  a  war  paint  or  a 
simple  rouge  in  times  of  peace. 

September  ^th.  This  proved  the  most  unsatisfac- 
tory day  of  the  entire  trip.  It  had  rained  all  night, 
and  the  morning  gave  no  promise  of  improvement. 
Crossing  the  swamp  made  by  the  iron  spring,  we 
followed  certain  blazes  and  a  faint  trail  up  the  mount- 
ain side.     The  trail  became  fainter  and  finally  ended 


Veal  ^urce  of  tbe  Dermilion 


225 


in  as  thick  a  bush  as  I  have  ever  seen.  Leaving 
Ross  to  cut  his  way  through,  I  followed  the  blaze 
mark  to  a  prospector's  claim.  It  was  our  purpose 
to  cross  over  a  point  of  land  to  the  main  Vermilion 
River,  which  comes  in  from  the  north-west  out  of  a 
broad  valley.  This  was  not  the  trail,  and  after  two 
hours'  hard  work  we  turned  back  through  the  wet 
brush.  It  seemed  best  to  follow  the  river  and  hope 
to  find  the  trail  from  a  point  near  the  confluent 
streams.  We  did  so,  but  could  find  no  evidence  of 
the  desired  trail,  and  we  camped  in  despair  by  the 
river.  Soaked  through  by  a  cold  rain,  our  fingers 
were  so  numb  that  we  could  hardly  untie  the  pack 
ropes  or  set  up  the  tents.  In  an  hour,  however,  our 
camp  was  in  order,  on  a  bench  near  the  water,  and  a 
large  fire  was  burning  briskly.  For  the  first  time,  I 
was  farther  away  from  my  object  after  making  a 
day's  march. 

We  were  near  the  two  streams  of  the  Vermilion, 
one  of  which  comes  from  the  pass  to  the  south-east, 
while  the  other  heads  to  the  north-west.  On  Daw- 
son's map,  the  latter  is  not  sketched  out,  and  is 
called  the  "  Main  Stream."  One  result  of  our  in- 
vestigations was  our  knowledge  that  the  stream 
from  the  pass  is  considerably  larger  and  longer. 
The  stream  in  Prospector's  Valley,  then,  is  the  real 
Vermilion  River,  as  this  is  the  longest  a! id  most 
voluminous  tributary  and  heads  near  the  base  of 
Mt.  Hungabee.  The  exploration  and  sketching  out 
of  these  two  streams  was  probably  the  most  valuable 


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226 


Zbe  'RocMed  of  Canada 


geographical  work  of  our  trip.     The  altitude  at  this 
place  is  about  forty-five  hundred  feet. 

A  cold  rain  fell  all  night,  and  snow  lay  on  the 
mountains  less  than  one  thousand  feet  above  us  in 
the  morning.  I  rode  my  saddle  horse  across  the 
river,  for  we  were  on  the  south  side  of  it,  and  leav- 
ing Ross  to  pack  up  things,  started  to  find  the  trail 
which  leads  up  the  north-west  fork  of  the  river.  I 
soon  found  myself  on  a  high  clay  bluff,  overlooking 
the  north-west  fork,  which  is  a  muddy  stream.  A 
trail  seemed  to  appear  on  the  other  side  of  the  river, 
but  a  scramble  down  the  clay  bank  revealed  no- 
thing. Entering  the  woods  I  beat  a  way  through  the 
wet  brush,  parallel  with  the  stream,  but  was  cha- 
grined to  find  myself  in  a  half  hour  by  the  other 
river.  Turning  back,  1  resolved  to  keep  a  straighter 
course,  and  frequently  glanced  at  a  distant  peak  for 
my  bearings.  What  was  my  surprise  to  find  my- 
self after  a  time  again  on  the  river  bank.  A  second 
look,  however,  added  to  my  perplexity,  for  this  river 
was  muddy  and  fiowed  to  my  left  instead  of  right. 
It  was  the  north-west  fork  again,  and  in  the  clay 
were  my  recent  footprints.  I  had  walked  for  an 
hour  in  a  circle,  in  spite  of  my  earnest  resolve  to 
keep  a  straight  course.  Many  a  time  1  have  trav- 
ersed the  pathless  woods  for  hours,  and  come  out 
within  a  hundred  yards  of  camp  without  a  com- 
pass, but  the  pride  of  past  exploits  was  here  utterly 
fallen.  The  mountain  towards  which  I  was  walk- 
ing seemed  enchanted  and  as  far  away  as  ever.     1 


I^iver  Bivi2)ed  into  (fbm^  3maU  Streame   227 

can  offer  no  excuse  for  such  poor  woodcraft,  except 
that  there  was  no  sun,  nor  uniform  slope  of  ground, 
and  the  wet  brush  which  had  to  be  beaten  before 
me,  distracted  attention. 

Following  the  bluff  with  jealous  care,  1  came 
upon  the  trail  in  a  quarter  of  a  mile.  This  1  took 
back  till  it  led  me  to  the  iron  spring,  not  two  hun- 
dred yards  from  our  first  camp.  "No  blazes  on  the 
trees,  and  a  heavy  underbrush,  concealed  it  from 
view  and  cost  us  c  day  and  a  half  of  valuable  time. 
After  three  hours  of  work  I  returned  to  camp,  cold, 
tired,  and  disgusted,  but  happy  that  the  trail  was 
found.  We  marched  five  hours  and  camped  at  6.30 
P.M.,  many  miles  up  the  north-west  branch  of  the 
Vermilion,  in  a  poor  place. 

About  one  mile  from  camp  we  passed  a  fine 
meadow  the  next  day,  where  we  gave  our  horses 
thirty  minutes  to  feed,  because  they  had  had  a  poor 
pasture  the  previous  night.  Shortly  afterwards  a 
large  stream  came  in  from  our  right  a  the  trail 
totally  disappeared.  While  hunting  around  for  it, 
another  stream  was  discovered,  entering  a  hundred 
yards  beyond  from  the  opposite  side  of  the  valley. 
The  river  was  rapidly  dividing  into  small  streams. 
We  discovered  the  trail  at  length  up  the  stream  to 
our  right.  It  took  us  away  from  the  water  and  into 
the  woods,  where  a  steep  ascent  of  nearly  one 
thousand  feet  led  us  to  a  commanding  spot. 

The  great  valley  of  the  Vermilion  was  visible  for 
more  than  thirty  miles,  an  unbroken  sweep  of  dark 


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228 


^be  'RocMee  ot  Cana^a 


green  forest.  From  the  ridge  on  the  west,  which 
intervened  between  us  and  Prospector's  Valley, 
several  confluent  streams  made  the  one  where  we 
had  found  the  trail.  One  of  these  falls  down  a  cliff 
for  some  distance  into  a  rock  basin  whence  it  spouts 
upwards  like  a  boiling  spring  or  geyser  about  ten  feet 
into  the  air,  then  arching  over  falls  one  hundred  feet 
before  striking  the  precipice.  On  the  other  side  of 
the  narrow  ridge,  up  which  we  urged  our  horses  by 
the  steepest  kind  of  a  trail,  was  another  cascade  of 
far  greater  height  in  the  dark  valley  beyond.  At  its 
head  there  lay  the  lofty  mountains  of  volcanic  rock, 
Vaux  and  Goodsir. 

An  upland  park  of  meadows  and  interspersed 
groves  made  easy  travel  for  several  miles,  till  we 
camped  at  sixty-two  hundred  feet  on  the  summit  of 
the  pass  between  the  Vermilion  and  Ottertail,  Tl:e 
night  was  clear  and  frosty.  In  bright  sunshine  the 
next  morning  we  descended  a  thousand  feet  into 
the  Ottertail  valley,  and  hoped  to  reach  O'Hara  Lake, 
west  of  Mt.  Victoria,  by  evening.  However,  we  did 
not  allow  for  the  countless  vexatious  delays  of  losing 
the  trail,  which,  in  this  narrow  ravine-like  valley,  is 
almost  the  worst  1  have  ever  seen.  Much  of  the 
time  we  beat  a  way  through  the  timber  without  a 
trail,  but  the  many  cut  banks  guarded  by  trees, 
undermined  by  the  water,  and  sweeping  its  rapids 
with  their  branches,  made  us  climb,  and  chop,  and 
ford  constantly.  After  an  exceedingly  hard  day,  we 
camped  on  a  rough  slide,  where  our  horses  had 


,  which 
Valley, 
lere  we 
1  a  cliff 

spouts 
ten  feet 
red  feet 
side  of 
)rses  by 
cade  of 

At  its 
lie  rock, 

spersed 
till  we 
nmit  of 
1.  The 
line  the 
;et  into 
a  Lake, 
we  did 
f  losing 
alley,  is 

of  the 
hout  a 
'  trees, 

rapids 
op,  and 
lay,  we 
scs  had 


O'HARA  LAKE  AND  WIWAXY  PEAK 


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Zv^im  Bedcent  of  tbe  Qttertail  'River    229 


scanty  feed,  and  we,  only  so  much  room  as  was 
necessary  to  place  our  tent  upon.  The  snow  of  a 
winter  slide  near  us  had  but  recently  melted,  and  the 
uncovered  bushes  were  putting  forth  buds  and  tender 
leaves.  Delicate  flowers  were  in  brilliant  blossom, 
while  hard  by  were  the  evidences  of  the  end  of 
summer,  making  a  strange  contrast  of  springtime 
fragrance  and  autumnal  colours. 

On  the  previous  day  we  were  disappointed  not 
to  have  arrived  at  O'Hara  Lake,  but  now  felt  confi- 
dent that  on  this  day  we  should  reach  that  charming 
spot.  I  thought  the  next  valley,  opening  to  our 
right,  would  be  the  one  to  follow,  but  the  trail  made 
an  aggravating  turn,  and  landed  us  far  up  the  valley 
to  the  west,  whence  we  could  see  Mts.  Vaux  and 
Goodsir.  The  trail  disappeared  in  the  stream,  and  it 
was  half  an  hour  before  Ross  found  it,  or  another  in 
the  woods.  We  followed  it  for  a  long  distance,  but 
bands  of  meadow  cut  through  the  woods  every 
quarter  mile  or  so,  and  in  such  places  the  grass, 
willows,  and  alders  grow  rank,  and  a  man  on  horse- 
back is  lost  in  the  underbrush.  The  trail  also  dis- 
appears and  must  be  found  on  the  opposite  side  at 
great  loss  of  time.  At  length,  in  some  uncertainty 
of  our  trail,  which  was  leading  us  too  far  north,  we 
camped  in  a  rich  meadow.  Our  horses  revelled  here 
in  tlie  fine  grass,  which  was  waving  in  warm  and 
balmy  breezes. 

On  the  afternoon  of  September  9th,  two  roughly 
clad  men,  one  on  horseback,  and  the  other  on  foot. 


:i 


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230 


Zbc  IRocldeB  of  (^ana^a 


might  have  been  seen  on  opposite  sides  of  a  wide  and 
roaring  mountain  stream,  pursuing  their  way  through 
the  woods.  Wherever  an  open  space  disclosed  one 
to  another,  curious  signals  were  made  by  their  hold- 
ing up  one  or  both  arms.  The  river  was  the  Otter- 
tail,  and  the  men  were  Ross  Peecock  and  myself, 
trying  to  find  a  trail  and  signalling  whether  any  had 
yet  been  found  or  no.  In  the  evening  one  had  been 
discovered,  and  the  prospects  of  to-morrow's  march 
were  thereby  improved. 

The  trail  enters  a  valley  of  large  size  which  opens 
into  the  Ottertail  at  this  point  from  the  north-east. 
From  its  position  and  direction,  I  hoped  that  it  would 
give  us  a  route  to  the  region  of  O'Hara  Lake,  the 
source  of  the  Kicking  Horse  River,  where  one  day's 
march  would  bring  us  to  the  railroad.  A  trip  through 
this  delightful  region  seemed  better  than  to  continue 
down  the  Ottertail  to  Leanchoil,  especially  as  the 
lower  Ottertail  valley  has  been  burned  over. 

September  loth.  The  weather  was  still  warm  and 
beautiful,  and  in  an  hour  after  starting  we  were  on 
the  trail  which  takes  up  the  new  valley.  Our  horses 
felt  so  good  from  their  recent  fine  pasture  that  they 
were  nervous  and  excitable.  It  was  hard  to  drive 
them,  and  on  one  occasion  two  of  them  started  back. 
Running  through  the  woods  to  head  them  off,  1 
stumbled  on  a  log,  and  gave  my  right  knee  a  terri- 
ble blow  against  a  sharp  stone.  The  pain  made  it 
impossible  at  first  to  even  shout  to  Ross,  who  was 
following  the  trail.   When  he  came  to  my  assistance, 


I- 


1 J      '1 1 


i  mi 


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i  i\\ 


1 


H  painful  Bccit>cnt 


2;i 


it  was  some  time  before  1  could  move,  but  1  finally 
got  on  my  horse.  As  the  inflammation  got  worse  by 
riding,  I  had  to  get  off  and  walk.  It  was  impossible 
for  me  to  drive  the  refractory  horses,  so  while  Ross 
went  behind  1  led.  To  make  matters  worse,  the 
trail  disappeared,  and  Ross  had  to  come  forward  to 
locate  it,  which  he  finally  did,  some  way  up  the  mount- 
ain. After  this  Ross  climbed  down  to  the  stream, 
and  brought  up  a  hat  full  of  its  ice-cold  water,  nar- 
rowly escaping  losing  it  all  after  a  long  climb  by 
slipping  from  a  log.  The  cold  allayed  the  pain  some- 
what, though  my  leg  was  so  stiff  at  first,  that  I  lay 
down  frequently  for  rest,  and  the  next  one  hundred 
yards  were  the  slowest  and  most  excruciating  it  has 
ever  been  my  lot  to  travel.  However,  the  circulation 
started  up  with  exercise,  and  in  a  short  time  I  began 
to  walk  well. 

The  trail,  after  climbing  some  way,  descends  into 
a  fine  open  valley,  where  we  made  very  rapid  time, 
by  driving  our  horses  up  the  clear  stream,  and  cross- 
ing from  side  to  side.  In  five  miles  we  came  to  a 
side  valley  on  our  right,  which  1  had  long  held  in 
view  as  the  one  we  should  take.  After  countless 
delays  in  beating  the  trail,  we  found  ourselves,  as  the 
daylight  failed,  at  the  top  of  a  pass,  where,  on  a  sin- 
gle ridge  of  green,  we  were  surrounded  by  apparently 
impassable  rock-slides.  Westward,  the  wan  green 
sky  was  hung  with  ominous  clouds,  brooding  ov^r 
a  mountain,  which,  like  a  massive  pyramid,  filled  all 
the  gap  between  west  and  north.     The  trail  was 


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finally  discovered  over  the  rock-slide.  Here  the  In- 
dians had  filled  all  the  crevices  between  the  stones 
with  smaller  ones,  and  paved  a  safe  but  narrow  path 
among  rough  ledges.  The  south  side  of  Mt.  Victoria 
lay  in  plain  view  before  us,  and  at  7.30  p.m.,  after 
ten  hours  of  marching,  we  pitched  our  camp  in  the 
darkness  beside  O'Hara  Lake.  Our  tent  was  on 
the  identical  spot  where  Wilson  and  1  had  slept  on 
bare  ground  in  the  h\\  of  1896. 

In  the  morning  the  chickadees  were  singing  and 
calling  to  one  another  very  sweetly  among  the 
spruces.  The  mosquitoes  were  as  numerous  as  in 
summer,  though  the  air  was  springlike.  It  was  to  be 
a  day  of  rest  after  our  long  and  tiresome  marches,  for 
we  were  now  within  six  hours  of  the  railroad. 
OT!ara  Lake  was  a  favourite  resort  of  a  gentleman 
of  that  name,  who  came  here  frequently  some  years 
ago,  and  was  probably  the  first  tourist  to  visit  the 
place.  If  the  six  most  beautiful  lakes  in  the  mount- 
ains were  selected,  this  would  certainly  be  among 
them.  Personally,  I  regard  Lake  Louise,  Moraine 
Lake,  and  O'Hara  Lake  as  the  three  finest  I  have 
ever  seen.  Each  is  between  one  and  two  miles  long 
and  each  has  certain  individual  charms. 

O'Hara  Lake  is  surrounded  by  a  noble  amphi- 
theatre, the  cul-de-sac  made  by  Mts.  Victoria,  Lefroy, 
and  Hungabee.  The  water  and  even  the  bottom  it- 
self are  coloured  a  vivid,  clear  green.  Not  far  from  the 
outlet,  a  pretty  bay  is  made  by  a  narrow  point  which 
projects  a  line  of  trees  into  the  water.  Then  it  dissolves 


1 


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ow  path 
Victoria 
M.,  after 
p  in  the 
was  on 
slept  on 


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mtleman 
Tie  years 
visit  the 

mount- 
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Moraine 
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:  amphi- 
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from  the 
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dissolves 


O'HARA  LAKE 


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Seautt  of  ®"l)ara  Xalte 


233 


in  a  chain  of  rocky  islets,  covered  in  part  with 
moss,  willows,  a  few  dwarf  spruces,  and  beds  of  pur- 
ple-rayed asters.  Beyond  this  miniature  cape,  the 
shore  sweeps  out  into  the  broader  reaches  of  the 
lake,  and  carries  the  eye  to  the  cliffs  of  the  farthest 
shore,  where  the  inlet  stream  makes  a  curtain  of 
water  as  it  falls  in  cascades  over  dark  rocks.  At 
night  and  sometimes  by  day,  you  may  hear  the 
sound  of  the  water  distinctly,  a  mile  or  more  distant, 
as  it  is  carried  over  the  lake.  1  have  never  discovered 
whether  there  are  any  fish  in  this  lake  or  not,  though 
every  condition  is  favourable  to  them. 

The  next  day  we  marched  six  hours  down  the 
valley,  over  a  bad  trail,  and  reached  the  railroad  at 
Hector.  Here  we  traversed  burnt  timber  for  the  first 
and  only  time,  of  our  thirty-one  days'  trip.  When 
near  the  valley  end,  a  thunder-storm  came  up  from 
tilt  west,  and  swept  a  curtain  of  hail  and  rain  over 
the  mountains.  A  high  waterfall  on  the  side  of  Mt. 
Victoria  was  stopped  and  blown  back  against  the 
cliffs  by  the  strong  winds.  We  left  the  wilderness 
and  passed  out  of  the  mountains  while  the  raging  of 
storm  and  the  roar  of  thunder  bade  us  farewell. 


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CHAPTER  XIII 

MOUNTAIN  CLIMBING  IN  THE  ROCKIES  — NATURE  OF  THE 
ROCK  FORMATIONS  —  THE  MOUNTAINS  EASILY  ACCES- 
SIBLE—  POSSIBILITIES  OF  THE  WEATHER  — PIONEER  WORK 
OF  THE  SURVEYORS  — FIRST  ATTEMPT  ON  MT.  TEMPLE  — A 
WILD  NIGHT  —  A  SCENE  OF  RUGGED  DESOLATION  —  FINAL 
SUCCESS  —  FIRST  CONQUESTS  BY  THE  APPALACHIAN  CLUB 

—  FATAL  ACCIDENT  ON  MT.  LEFROY  — THE  SUMMIT  OF  MT. 
VICTORIA  —  THEWAPUTEHK  RANGE  —  VIEW  OF  MT.  FORBES 

—  ASCENT  OF  ATHABASCA  PEAK  — MAGNIFICENT  VIEW  INTO 
AN  UNEXPLORED  REGION  —  FIRST  CLIMBERS  OF  THE  SEL- 
KIRKS  —  SPLENDID  FUTURE  OF  THE  ROCKIES  FROM  A  MOUN- 
TAINEERING STANDPOINT 


I.    \. 


m 


I       r 


THE  Rockies  of  Canada  offer  exceptional  oppor- 
tunities to  the  mountaineer.  The  time  has 
not  yet  come  v^hen  the  climber  must  travel 
far  into  the  wilderness  to  find  peaks  that  have  never 
been  attempted.  There  are  hundreds  of  unclimbed 
mountains  within  a  few  miles  of  the  railroad,  and  it 
may  safely  be  said  that  mountaineering  in  the  Cana- 
dian Rockies  is  now  making  its  early  history. 

Few  other  easily  accessible  ranges  in  the  world 
possess  the  rare  charm  of  the  unexplored  wilderness, 
where  ench  attempt  is  a  reconnaissnnce  for  the  best 
route  and  every  view  is  looked  upon  for  the  first  time 

by  human  eyes.     Perhaps  because  of  this  element 

234 


iufel 


«-.«'3,jFr.,i.r:- 


"i! 
^1 


IRaturc  of  the  IRock  jformatlons       235 

of  novelty,  no  great  mountain  is  ever  climbed  twice. 
Everyone  prefers  to  attempt  a  lesser  peak,  that  is 
absolutely  new,  than  to  retrace  some  other  party's 
steps  on  a  higher  mountain.  Two  exceptions  to  this 
rule  are  Mt.  Stephen,  at  Field,  and  Mt.  Sir  Donald,  at 
Glacier,  each  of  which  now  has  the  distinction  of 
several  ascents. 

The  average  height  of  the  valleys  is  between  four 
and  seven  thousand  feet  above  sea-level,  and  as  the 
greatest  peaks  are  between  eleven  and  thirteen  thou- 
sand feet,  the  actual  ascent  of  every  mountain  can 
usually  be  made  in  one  day,  so  that  high-level  camps 
are  unnecessary.  It  may  be  said  that  six  thousand 
feet  is  about  the  upper  limit  of  total  ascent  necessary 
to  reach  mountain  summits  in  the  Canadian  Rockies. 
Glacier  and  snow  work  is  not  dissimilar  to  that  in 
other  mountain  systems,  but  rock  climbing  has 
special  features  of  its  own.  The  rocks  in  the  Selkirks 
are  hard  schists  and  shales,  which  weather  into  great 
blocks  and  offer  comparatively  safe  foot- and  hand- 
holes. 

In  the  eastern  or  Summit  Range,  however,  the 
geological  formations  are  utterly  different.  The 
lower  parts  of  mountains  near  the  axis  of  the  range 
are  usually  Cambrian  quartz-sandstones,  which  are 
stable  when  broken,  while  the  cliffs,  though  often 
nearly  vertical,  abound  in  ledges  and  steps,  which 
make  easy  work.  This  formation,  however,  is  only 
found  up  to  a  moderate  altitude,  usually  less  than  eight 
thousand  feet,  and  then  only  in  the  sub-range  which 


I  ? 


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/I  .:    I 


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I' 


M' 


%•    V 


236 


^be  1?ocKie0  of  Canada 


t  (    I' 


■  ^ 


^:! 


J-1 

1 
1 

makes  the  continental  watershed.  The  other  paral- 
lel sub-ranges,  of  which  there  are  five  or  six,  and  the 
upper  parts  of  every  range,  are  formed  of  blue  and 
grey  limestones  and  dolomites  of  the  Carboniferous 
and  Devonian  ages.  Sometimes  beds  of  shales  and 
clay-slates  appear  also  in  this  formation.  These  lime- 
stones weather  into  abrupt  and  often  nearly  per- 
pendicular cliffs  on  the  eastern  face  of  nearly  every 
mountain,  while  the  western  is  usually  a  moderate 
slope  which  offers  a  key  to  many  otherwise  difficult 
ascents.  When  the  strata  are  nearly  or  quite  hori- 
zontal, however,  the  softer  beds  weather  into  vertical 
cliffs,  which  make  impassable  zones  round  the 
mountains.  Such  peaks  assume  a  castellated  appear- 
ance, and  the  cliffs  are  adorned  with  numerous  sharp 
pinnacles  and  rounded  pillars,  which  bear  a  striking 
resemblance  to  mediaeval  ruins.  The  disintegration 
of  the  limestones  is  very  rapid,  as  may  be  seen  in 
the  immense  talus  slopes,  which  have  been  piled 
against  the  mountain  bases  since  the  Glacial  Period. 
Frequent  rock-falls  add  daily  to  these  great  masses  of 
debris.  The  gullies  on  the  high  parts  of  the  mount- 
ains are  filled  with  unstable  rocks  and  lined  with 
tottering  walls  ready  to  fall  at  any  time.  The  danger 
of  falling  stones  and  unsafe  ledges  is  the  greatest 
which  the  climber  will  encounter  in  the  Canadian 
Rockies. 

At  Lake  Louise,  Field,  and  Glacier,  the  climber  is 
near  the  base  of  many  fine  peaks,  and  may  use  the 
several  inns  as  his  starting-point,  or  at  least  consider 


i 


'-\^J 


pO0dibUitied  of  tbe  Meatber 


237 


them  his  main  camp.  This  is  true  of  Banff,  though 
very  few  climbers  will  be  tempted  to  make  the  tedi- 
ous ascents  of  Twin  Peaks  and  Cascade  Mountain, 
which  do  not  offer  sufficient  compensation  for  the 
labour  required.  Many  fine  mountains  raise  their 
snowy  summits  at  a  distance  from  the  railroad,  and 
to  conquer  them,  a  camping  trip,  with  horses  and 
tents,  should  be  planned.  There  are  no  huts  as  yet, 
where  the  traveller  may  spend  a  night,  except  near 
Lake  Louise,  unless  we  consider  the  occasional  log 
shacks  of  prospectors  and  trappers.  A  tent  or  even  a 
bivouac  is  usually  far  preferable  to  these  damp,  por- 
cupine-infested places. 

All  the  climber's  work  and  the  reward  of  his 
labour  depend  on  weather.  That  of  the  Canadian 
mountains  is  no  worse  nor  better  than  elsewhere. 
The  usual  summer  weather  in  June  is  cold  and  rainy, 
and  the  rivers  are  in  flood  from  melting  snow,  to  be 
followed  in  July  by  sunshiny  warm  days,  interrupted 
by  brief  thunder-storms.  August  is  generally  hot 
and  dry,  but  towards  the  end  of  the  month,  a  week 
or  more  of  rain  and  snow  frequently  occurs,  and  this 
storm  marks  the  breaking  of  summer  heat.  Sep- 
tember is  a  fickle  month,  and  is  usually  stormy 
and  cold  for  a  long  period.  Cool  October  is  the 
best  month  of  all,  though  the  days  are  short,  and 
even  the  midday  sun  casts  long  shadows  in  deep 
valleys.  The  nights  are  frosty,  films  of  ice  form  on 
pools,  and  the  mosquitoes  and  gnats  no  longer 
worry  the  camper.    The  rivers  are  low  and  can  be 


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•i*      1.1    •  I      !■ 


238 


Zl)c  'RocMcd  of  Canada 


*,!! 


easily  forded,  while  the  most  distant  mountains  are 
distinctly  seen  through  the  crystal  atmosphere.  The 
only  certain  thing  about  the  weather  is  its  uncer- 
tainty, though  in  general,  fine  weather  is  the  rule 
and  rain  the  exception.  During  rainy  periods,  the 
short  intervals  of  improvement,  or  the  final  clearing, 
are  the  best  of  all,  and  the  cloud  effects  are  mag- 
nificent beyond  description.  There  can  be  no  finer 
revelation  of  the  sublimity  of  nature,  especially 
when  seen  from  the  craggy  summit  of  some  storm- 
swept  peak,  than  a  view  of  rugged  mountains  partly 
concealed  by  rolling  clouds. 

No  doubt  the  earliest  ascents  of  importance  were 
made  by  the  railroad  and  topographical  surveyors. 
Between  1887  and  1892,  Mr.  J.  J.  McArthur  climbed 
nineteen  mountaiiis  over  nine  thousand  feet  and 
four  mountains  over  ten  thousand  feet  high.  Among 
the  latter,  the  first  ascended  was  Mt.  Stephen,  in 
1887,  and  again  in  1892.  Wind  Mountain,  near 
Canmore,  and  the  fine  peak  called  Storm  Mountain, 
near  the  Vermilion  Pass,  were  ascended  by  Mr.  St. 
Cyr.  All  this  work  was  for  survey  purposes  and  so 
cannot  be  called  mountaineering  in  the  true  meaning 
of  the  term.  Only  such  mountains  were  attempted 
as  could  be  climbed  when  encumbered  by  heavy 
surveying  instruments,  and  this  resulted  in  their  de- 
feat on  several  peaks,  one  of  which  was  Mt.  Hector. 

Almost  immediately  after  the  surveyors  finished 
their  work  for  the  time  being,  some  ascents  were 
made  by  visitors  to  this  new  mountain  world.    In 


\i 


ntains  are 
ere.  The 
its  Lincer- 
I  the  rule 
riods,  the 
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are  mag- 
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especially 
ne  storm- 
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mce  were 
surveyors, 
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.es  and  so 
t  meaning 
attempted 
by  heavy 
1  their  de- 
,t.  Hector. 
s  finished 
ents  were 
vorld.     in 


Mount  Hector  and  Slate  Afonnta?vs. 
From  summit  of  a  mountain  near   Little  Fork   Puss,   10,125  Jeet  in 

altitude. 


», 


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539 


the  summer  of  1893,  Mr.  S.  S.  Allen  and  I  were 
camped  at  Lake  Louise,  with  the  purpose  of  making 
some  mountain  climbs  in  that  beautiful  region.  Our 
two  weeks'  work  resulted  in  capturing  two  mount- 
ains on  either  side  of  the  lake,  and  being  defeated  by 
Mt.  Victoria  after  reaching  a  height  of  ten  thousand 
feet,  and  by  Mt.  Temple  at  ninety-eight  hundred 
feet. 

On  the  latter  attempt  we  started   from    Lake 
Louise  with  one  horse  and  a  Stony  Indian,  named 
Enoch  Wildman.     The  horse  carried  a  tent  and 
some  provisions,  about  ninety  per  cent,  of  which 
was  canned  duck,  a  wholesome  though  monoton- 
ous diet.    We  went  to  Laggan  and  followed  a  trail- 
less  course  along  the  south  bank  of  the  Bow  for  five 
or  six  miles  towards  the  base  of  Mt.  Temple  and 
then  struck  up  through  the  forest  of  pine  and  spruce, 
climbing  ceaselessly   till  near  nightfall,   when  we 
reached  the  cliffs  of  the  mountain,  seventy-five  hun- 
dred feet  above  sea-level.    A  violent  thunder-storm 
overtook  us  towards  evening,  and  we  sought  shelter 
at  length  near  a  lonely  rock-girt  pool,  enclosed  by 
steep  banks,  a  home  for  picas  and  marmots.     On  its 
wind-swept  surface  were  fragments  of  snow  from 
an  undermined  drift.     It  was  quite  dark  when  v.ve 
turned  out  our  forlorn  pony  to  graze  on  bushy  heaths 
and  birches,  the  only  vegetation  among  the  barren 
stones.    There  was  no  level  place  for  our  tent,  and  a 
stone  wall  had  to  be  built  to  support  our  feet  and 
keep  us  from  sliding  into  the  lake.    It  was  a  wild 


1,1 


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240 


{Tbe  ItocMee  of  Cana^a 


night  of  storm  and  wind.  Showers  of  hail  and  rain 
swept  over  us  continually,  and  some  of  the  more 
violent  squalls  threatened  to  bring  our  flapping  tent 
to  the  ground.  We  had  built  a  huge  fire,  for  many 
great  logs  cumbered  the  ground,  and  it  roared  like  a 
furnace  and  sent  great  flames  this  way  and  that 
in  the  fickle  gusts,  but  towards  the  dawn,  which 
seemed  never  to  come,  it  died  away  into  inert  ashes. 
The  crackling  of  our  fire  gave  place  to  the  sound  of 
lapping  ripples  on  the  rocky  shore.  The  light  of 
day  revealed  our  wild  surroundings.  We  were  under 
the  northern  precipice  of  Temple.  A  beautiful  fall 
descended  in  a  series  of  cascades,  a  distance  of  about 
one  thousand  feet,  to  enter  our  little  lake.  Some- 
times the  strong  wind,  blowing  again,  l  the  cliff,  or 
sweeping  upward,  made  the  water  pause  and  mo- 
mentarily hang  in  mid-air,  suspended  as  it  were  on 
an  invisible  airy  cushion,  till,  gathering  greater  vol- 
ume, it  burst  through  the  barrier  in  a  curtain  of  spark- 
ling drops. 

Poor  Enoch  had  suffered  terribly  from  cold  during 
the  night  and  begged  our  permission  to  return  to  Lag- 
gan,  promising  to  come  back  the  next  day,  "sun  so 
high,"  pointing  to  its  place  in  the  early  afternoon. 
He  said  in  his  broken  English, — "No  grass  for  pony 
here,— too  cold  me, — no  like  it  me."  So  we  took 
pity  on  him  and  sent  him  back  to  more  comfort- 
able quarters,  while  we  rested  in  comparative  quiet, 
it  being  Sunday  and  stormy. 

We   were   on  foot   Monday  morning   at   four 


-^Mssansatasm 


a  Scene  of  'Rua0e^  Deeolation        241 


four 


o'clock.  The  gloom  of  early  dawn,  the  morning 
chill,  and  a  clouded  sky  had  no  cheering  effect  on 
our  anticipations.  Our  plan  was  to  traverse  the 
mountain-side  till  we  should  come  to  the  south- 
east shoulder,  where  we  had  once  observed  the 
outline  of  an  apparently  easy  slope. 

At  eleven  o'clock,  we  had  reached  a  height  of 
nearly  ten  thousand  feet  and  came  to  a  vertical  wall, 
about  four  hundred  feet  high,  a  barrier  that  com- 
pletely defeated  us.  At  the  base  of  this  cliff  there 
was  a  narrow  slope  of  loose  broken  limestone,  and 
below  this,  another  precipice.  Utterly  defeated  in 
our  attempt  by  this  impassable  barrier,  1  walked 
along  the  cliff  base  into  a  semicircular  recess  in  a 
last  vain  reconnaissance,  while  Allen  took  photo- 
graphs of  the  scenery. 

Here  1  had  a  few  moments  of  quiet  contempla- 
tion of  a  scene  that  in  its  awful  solitude  has  left 
a  deep  impression  on  my  memory.  Some  great 
stones,  dislodged  as  I  moved,  fell  with  a  grinding 
sound  over  the  edge,  towards  a  narrow  chasm, 
three  thousand  feet  below.  A  cold  wintry  wind 
made  a  subdued  monotone  amongst  the  inequali- 
ties of  rough  stone  and  the  overhanging  cliff,  and 
brought  up  the  dust  and  brimstone  odour  from  the 
crushing  stones.  Opposite  was  a  pinnacled  mount- 
ain stained  red  and  grey,  rent  into  thousands  of  nar- 
row gullies  or  beetling  turrets  by  the  wear  of  ages. 
It  was  a  vast  ruin  of  nature,  a  barren  mass  of  totter- 
ing walls  and  cliffs,  raising  two  lofty  summits  far 

16 


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ill. 


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242 


ITbe  Itocklee  of  Cana^a 


upwards.  Between  lay  a  narrow,  secluded  valley, 
so  thoroughly  enclosed  by  precipices  that  a  small 
lake  in  it  was  still  covered  by  the  granular,  half- 
melted  ice  of  last  winter.  To  the  east  and  south  a 
wild  and  rugged  group  of  mountains  made  a  con- 
tinuous range  and  rose  into  successive  jagged  peaks. 
Over  all  the  rough  upheaval  of  mountains  brooded 
a  gloomy  sky  with  long  furrows  of  dark  clouds 
moving  majestically  before  the  driving  wind.  Some 
of  the  highest  peaks  were  touched  by  clouds  or 
indistinct  in  snow  showers,  while  the  sun  shot  a 
few  beams  of  light  through  the  gloom  and  swept 
the  ice  and  rocks  with  a  weird  illumination.  Im- 
mense piles  of  debris  rested  against  the  mountain 
opposite,  at  the  base  of  which  was  a  desolate  valley 
half  filled  with  glacier  and  confused  moraines.  No 
tree  or  green  vegetation  of  any  kind  appeared  in 
all  this  barren  scene. 

Overcome  at  length  by  cold  winds  and  our 
hopeless  prospects  of  further  advance,  we  turned 
back  and  reached  camp  by  the  middle  of  the  after- 
noon. Here  we  found  that  Enoch  had  returned, 
faithful  to  his  word,  and  in  a  very  short  time  we 
commenced  our  journey  to  Laggan. 

Next  year,  August,  1894,  we  were  camped  again 
at  the  base  of  Mt.  Temple,  this  time  in  Paradise 
Valley.  We  were  better  prepared  than  before,  as  a 
year's  study  of  photographs  had  thrown  new  light 
on  a  possible  route  up  the  grand  mountain.  On 
the  16th,  by  way  of  physical  training,  we  ascended 


'    I 


I     ,r    ; 


again 

adise 

,  as  a 

light 

On 

ended 


final  Succeed 


243 


Mt.  Aberdeen,  which  lies  between  this  valley  and 
that  of  Lake  Louise.  The  ascent  of  this  peak,  io,2')0 
feet  high,  was  not  diftkult  by  the  route  we  took. 
Surrounded  as  it  is  by  Mts.  Lefroy,  Victoria,  Hunga- 
bee,  and  Temple,  which  are  among  the  greatest 
peaks  in  southern  Canada,  the  view  is  well  worth 
the  climb.  On  the  following  day  Allen,  Frissell,  and 
I  commenced  the  ascent  of  Temple.  We  were  up 
at  four  A.M.  There  was  no  trace  of  dawn,  and  the 
waning  moon,  now  in  her  last  quarter,  was  low  in 
the  southern  sky,  near  the  triangular  peak  of  Hunga- 
bee.  The  cold  air  was  full  of  woody  odours  and 
the  smoke  of  forest  fires.  We  crossed  the  frosty 
meadows  and  came  to  a  secluded  gorge,  filled  with 
massive  boulders,  looming  dark  in  the  early  morning 
light.  This  place  lay  between  Pinnacle  Mountain 
and  the  south  side  of  Temple.  A  steep  ascent  of 
scree,  where  the  unstable  stones  were  sliding  con- 
stantly, required  the  utm.ost  caution.  Sometimes 
the  mass  of  rocks  would  creep  and  grind  ten  or 
fifteen  yards  above  us  at  each  step.  Not  far  from 
us  was  a  place  where  a  rock  slide  had  occurred,  and 
it  seems  most  likely  that  this  unstable  slope  will 
some  day  rush  with  a  roar  of  thunder  into  the  val- 
ley. The  constant  movement  of  the  stones,  and 
the  thought  that  our  presence  might  be  the  last 
straw,  made  us  somewhat  apprehensive. 

hi  nine  o'clock  we  reached  the  pass  between 
Pinnacle  and  Temple,  and  from  a  height  of  nine 
thousand  feet  looked  eastward  upon  that  wild  valley 


■  * 


A 


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i 
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Mhti 


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lU 


'|l/if^ 


244 


Tlbe  1?ocftied  of  Cana^a 


of  desolr  .ion  which  we  had  seen  the  year  before. 
The  slanting  sun-rays  poured  a  flood  of  yellowish 
light  along  the  silent  precipices  on  either  side  and 
gently  tempered  the  chill  of  morning.  The  air  was 
perfectly  calm,  and  there  was  utter  silence  except 
the  clink  of  our  iron-nailed  boots  on  the  rough  stones. 
Cliffs  and  broken  stones  were  on  our  left,  where  we 
had  to  force  a  passage,  if  anywhere.  The  lot  fell 
upon  me  to  lead  the  party,  and  when  the  rope  was 
adjusted,  we  commenced  work.  For  the  next  two 
thousand  feet  it  was  merely  a  careful  selection  of 
gullies  and  scree  slopes,  with  occasional  rock  climb- 
ing. Our  greatest  anxiety  was  the  number  of  loose 
stones,  which  in  spite  of  every  precaution  were 
sometimes  dislodged  and  threatened  those  below. 
At  a  height  of  eleven  thousand  feet  we  had  a  discus- 
sion as  to  the  better  route  of  two  that  appeared. 
One  lay  at  our  right  and  seemed  easier,  while  the 
other  probably  lay  to  our  left,  and  though  it  was  con- 
cealed from  view,  the  previous  study  of  photographs 
convinced  me  that  this  would  be  the  better  route, 
and  it  took  some  time  for  them  to  agree  on  that 
point.  A  short  scramble  among  flat  shales  and  very 
rough  cliffs  led  us  suddenly  to  the  great  south  slope 
of  the  mountain,  and  we  knew  our  prize  was  all  but 
taken.  At  noon  we  reached  the  summit  and  stood 
at  the  highest  point  then  reached  in  Canada.  The 
air  was  calm  and  at  about  freezing  point.  The  sum- 
mit of  Mt.  Temple  is  a  sloping  mass  of  blue  lime- 
stone, comparatively  free  of  snow.    The  south  face 


I    t 


'i!£iit^!w^-ii  ^«__      


jfiret  Conqueetd  b^  tbc  Bppalacbian  Club    245 

is  an  unbroken  snow-field  and  glacier,  while  the  east 
is  precipitous.  Gullies  and  ridges  of  decayed  lime- 
stone descend  from  the  summit  nearly  six  thousand 
feet  into  Desolation  Valley,  where  we  saw  a  fine 
lake  at  the  base  of  a  precipitous  range.  We  were 
encircled  by  a  bluish  haze  through  which  only  the 
nearest  mountains  appeared,  so  that  we  lost  the  ad- 
vantage of  a  view  from  the  highest  mountain  in  a 
circle  of  nearly  one  hundred  miles  Ji-imeter. 

The  members  of  the  Appalachian  Mountain  Club 
made  their  first  high  ascent  and  commenced  serious 
work  by  conquering  Mt.  Hector  in  189s.  Those 
composing  that  party  were  Professor  Charles  E.  Fay, 
Philip  S.  Abbot,  and  Charles  S.  Thompson.  They 
had  the  energy  to  ascend  the  Bow  Valley  without 
horses,  under  Tom  Wilson's  guidance,  and  with  a 
porter  to  carry  a  few  provisions  and  blankets.  Mr. 
Abbot  describes  the  view  from  Hector,  which  is 
probably  a  little  over  eleven  thousand  feet  high,  as 
one  which  "cannot  be  matched  in  any  other  mount- 
ain system  in  the  world  except  in  Asia." 

During  the  same  summer,  Mt.  Stephen  was 
climbed  by  members  of  the  Appalachian  Club, 
though  two  ascents  had  been  made  previously  by 
J.  J.  Mc Arthur,  the  government  surveyor.  Mr.  Mc- 
Arthur  said,  in  speaking  of  a  gully  near  the  summit, 
that  to  his  surprise  on  the  second  ascent,  "fully  two 
hundred  thousand  cubic  feet  of  rock  which  formed 
the  western  wall  of  this  fissure  had  been  displaced 
and  fallen  into  the  amphitheatre  below."    So  rapidly 


r . 


:i 


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ii 


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\    i  >  f 

! '  i 


■  I 

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wn , 

T^ifliffi' 

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1  : 

J46 


Z\ic  'Rocftiea  of  Cana^a 


was  the  upper  part  of  the  mountain  falling  away, 
that  it  seemed  probable  that  in  a  few  years  it  would 
become  inaccessible. 

The  great  snow  peaks  near  l.ake  Louise  now  be- 
gan to  attract  the  attention  of  climbers.  On  August 
3,  1895,  Messrs.  Abbot,  Thompson,  Little,  and  Pro- 
fessor Fay  left  the  Lake  Louise  chalet  and  set  out  for 
an  attempt  to  ascend  Mt.  Lefroy.  At  noon  they  had 
traversed  the  Victoria  Glacier  and  ascended  the  nar- 
row snow  gorge  behind  Mt.  Lefroy  known  as  the 
"  Death  Trap."  Quoting  from  Professor  Fay's  article 
in  Appalachia  for  November,  1 896  : 

"  Almost  before  our  eyes  had  taken  in  the  won- 
derful prospect  that  opened  so  magically  —  the  sud- 
den plunge  of  the  western  gorge,  snowless  in  its 
upper  half,  its  sloping  sides  and  narrow  bottom 
lined  with  scree  from  the  heights  above  ;  the  sea- 
green  lakelets  at  its  foot,  three  thousand  feet  below 
us  ;  the  pinnacle  of  Mt.  Biddle  leaping  up  like  a 
petrified  flame  and  pricking  the  clouds  that  levelled 
with  the  tops  of  Victoria  and  Lefroy  themselves  ; 
the  remoter  array  of  peaks  uni,  liliar  in  this  new 
aspect  —  Abbot  had  scanned  the  western  side  of 
Lefroy,  now  for  the  first  time  clearly  revealed  to  us, 
and  joyfully  exclaimed  :  '  The  peak  is  ours  ! '  And 
suiely  his  confidence  seemed  justifled.  From  here 
an  unobstructed  w:iy  was  seen  lending  up  to  the 
long  summit  arete,  which  still  frowned  nearly  two 
thousand  feet  above  the  pass.  The  vast  mountain 
side  rose  in  a  sloping  wall,  ice-dad  for  the  greater 


km- 


I  ,' 


I 


■i 


Mount  Lcfroy  .lud  Mount  I  Ictoria. 
Fri»n   rope's  Pcnk,  <^S>5  feet. 


H    I'/ 


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jfatal  BcdDent  on  HDt  %ctvo^ 


247 


I'iB 


part,  yet  with  here  and  there  long  upward  leads  of 
rock  that  probably  could  be  scaled,  as  the  dip  was 
in  the  right  direction." 

Passing  over  the  details  of  a  long  and  labourious 
climb  as  the  party  cut  steps  and  slowly  worked  their 
way  upwards  for  four  and  one  half  hours,  the  inter- 
esting narrative  goes  on  to  say  : 

**  Bidding  Thompson  and  me  to  unrope  and  keep 
under  cover  from  falling  stones,  he  [Abbot]  clambered 
some  thirty  feet  up  the  rift,  secured  a  good  anchor- 
age, and  called  upon  Professor  Little  to  follow.  This 
the  latter  proceeded  to  do,  but  while  standing  at  the 
bottom  of  the  cleft  preparing  to  climb,  he  received 
a  tingling  blow  from  a  small  stone  dislodged  by  the 
rope.  A  moment  later  a  larger  one  falling  upon  the 
rope  half  severed  it,  so  as  to  require  a  knot.  As 
danger  from  this  source  seemed  likely  to  coiitinue, 
our  leader  had  Little  also  free  himself  from  the  rope 
and  come  up  to  where  he  stood.  From  ncre  a  shelf 
led  around  to  the  left,  along  which  Abbot  now  pro- 
ceeded a  few  yards  and  discovered  a  gully  leading 
upward,  unseen  from  the  point  first  attained,  and 
this  also  he  began  to  ascend.  To  Mr.  Little's  ques- 
tion, whether  it  mJght  not  be  better  to  try  and  turn 
the  bastion  on  the  shelf  itself,  he  replied  :  '  I  think 
not.     1  have  a  good  lead  here.' 

"  These  were  the  last  words  he  ever  uttered.  A 
moment  later  Little,  whose  attention  was  for  the 
moment  diverted  to  another  po'tion  of  the  crag,  was 
conscious  that   something   had  fallen  swiftly  past 


i 


'  H 


!:  : 


h, 


':il 


! 


i 


i 


248 


^bc  l^ocMes  of  Cana^a 


is 


'I 


lii'il 


-I 


i     '        ; 


fJ: 


II 


)  ' 


1 

I  : 


him,  and  knew  only  too  well  what  it  must  be. 
Thompson  and  1,  standing  at  the  base  of  the  cliff, 
saw  our  dear  friend  falling  backward  and  head-fore- 
most, saw  him  strike  the  upper  margin  of  the  ice 
slope  within  fifteen  feet  of  us,  turn  completely  over, 
and  instantly  begin  rolling  down  its  steep  incline. 
After  him  trailed  our  two  lengths  of  English  rope, — 
all  we  had  brought  with  us, —  which  we  had  spliced 
together  in  our  ascent  over  the  last  rock  slope  in 
order  to  gain  time  by  having  less  frequent  anchor- 
ages than  were  necessitated  by  the  short  intervals 
of  one  sixty-foot  line.  As  the  limp  body  rolled 
downward  in  a  line  curving  slightly  towards  the 
left,  the  rope  coiled  upon  it  as  on  a  spool,  a  happy 
circumstance  amid  so  much  of  horror,  for  not  only 
did  this  increase  of  friction  sensibly  affect  the  velo- 
city of  the  descent  of  nine  hundred  feet  to  the 
narrow  plateau  of  scree  above  mentioned,  but  doubt- 
less the  rope  by  catching  in  the  scree  itself  pre- 
vented the  unconscious  form  from  crossing  the 
narrow  level  and  falling  over  the  low  cliff  beyond. 
Had  it  passed  this,  nothing,  apparently,  could  have 
stopped  it  short  of  the  bottom  of  the  gorge  lead- 
ing up  to  the  pass  from  the  western  side  of  the 
Divide, —  a  far  more  fearful  fall  than  that  already 
made." 

Abbot  died  a  few  moments  after  his  friends 
reached  the  place  where  his  body  in  its  terrible  fall 
had  been  arrested.  Two  days  later  the  party  re- 
turned, and  with  Tom  Wilson  and  W.   J.   Astley 


fi' ; 


tlbe  Summit  of  (fbt  Dictoria 


249 


recovered  Abbot's  body,  now  partially  covered  by 
recent  snows  and  the  edge  of  a  snow-slide. 

Another  party  was  organised  the  following  year, 
and  on  the  anniversary  of  Abbot's  death  Mt.  Lefroy 
was  successfully  ascended. 

Two  days  later  Dr.  J.  Norman  Collie,  Professor 
Arthur  Michael,  Professor  Fay,  and  Peter  Sarbach,  a 
Swiss  guide,  climbed  Mt.  Victoria.  Following  the 
same  route  as  for  the  ascent  of  Lefroy  they  climbed 
the  Death  Trap,  which  is  now  called  Abbot's  Pass, 
and  at  eight  o'clock  reached  the  crest  of  this  col. 

Professor  Fay  writes  as  follows  : 

"The  morning  was  exquisite,  radiant  with  sun- 
light, and  in  this  more  exposed  position  the  almost 
tepid  breeze  of  the  canyon  became  the  cool,  brisk 
promise  of  a  gale.  To  our  gratification  it  later  sub- 
sided,—  so  that  I  may  still  report  that  I  have  never 
experienced  a  heavy  wind  during  any  ascent  in  the 
Canadian  Alps.  The  view  to  the  south  was  su- 
premely grand  through  the  pure  sunlit  air ;  but  our 
eyes  turned  from  the  soaring  lines  of  Goodsir,  Bid- 
die,  and  Hungabee,  to  the  bold  wall  never  yet  at- 
tempted which  rises  sheer  on  the  right  of  the  pass. 
It  was  not  the  first  time  that  its  broken  surface  had 
been  questioned  for  a  possible  way  of  ascent." 

Four  hours  later,  after  walking  and  climbing  along 
the  sharp  crest  which  makes  the  "very  ridge-pole  of 
the  North  American  continent,"  they  reached,  under 
Collie's  leadership,  the  summit  of  Victoria,  of  which 
Professor  Fay  says : 


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250 


ZTbe  'Rochied  of  Cana^a 


"The  summit  is  an  ideal  one.  Discounting  the 
cornice  crowning  over  towards  the  lake,  there  was 
hardly  more  than  comfortable  room  for  our  party. 
Unlike  that  of  Lefroy,  no  rock  pierced  the  virgin 
whiteness.  To  the  north  it  fell  away  suddenly  into  a 
deep  depression  filled  with  gendarmes,  separating  it 
from  a  bastion,  from  which  it  seems  hardly  probable 
it  will  ever  be  approached.  Immediately  to  the  west 
a  snow  arete  falls  away  less  rapidly,  rising  again  al- 
most to  our  level  in  the  most  pointed  snow  peak  1 
have  ever  seen.  The  sides  meet  in  the  perfect  apex 
of  an  angle  of  less  than  eighty  degrees.  It  seemed  as 
if  its  point  would  prick  the  palm  that  should  be  laid 
upon  it.  But  most  majestic,  even  awesome,  was  the 
portion  of  the  view  towards  which  our  backs  had 
been  turned  during  our  ascent :  soaring  Hungabee  ;  the 
hardly  less  amazing  pinnacle  of  Neptuak,  from  behind 
which  peered  sullenly  the  other  peaks  of  the  Wenk- 
chemna  group  ;  and,  nearer  at  hand,  the  grand  snow- 
capped pyramidal  summit  of  Mt.  Temple,  rising 
behind  the  ice-wall  of  Lefroy.  While  Dr.  Collie  set 
up  his  mercurial  barometer  (it  gave  a  reading  of  1 1 ,400 
feet),  1  put  in  commission  the  pocket-level.  Of  all 
the  visible  peaks,  excepting  perhaps  the  distant  As- 
siniboine  and  to  the  northward  others  still  more  re- 
mote, Temple  was  the  only  one  rising  to  a  higher 
altitude  than  our  own  summit.  Hungabee  and  the 
"  scalp  "  on  the  right-hand  tower  of  Goodsir  appeared 
to  be  exactly  at  our  level.  To  Lefroy  it  was  a  slight 
angle  of  depression." 


;rbe  Maputebit  IRmgc 


!5i 


Four  of  the  greatest  mountains  near  Lake  Louise 
had  now  been  conquered,  to  say  nothing  of  several 
inferior  and  easily  ascended  peaks  like  Mt.  Fairview 
and  Mt.  St.  Piran.  Probably  for  this  reason  no  less 
than  for  their  own  attractiveness  the  attention  of 
climbers  was  next  given  to  some  of  the  giants  of  the 
Waputehk  Range,  north  of  the  railroad.  Several  ex- 
peditions were  made  over  the  extensive  ice-fields  at 
the  head  of  Bath  Creek  and  west  of  the  Bow  Lakes. 
Mt.  Balfour,  a  snow-buried  peak  on  the  continental  di- 
vide, eleven  thousand  feet  high,  fell  before  the  attack  of 
Messrs.  Nichols,  Noyes, Thompson,  and  Weed  in  1898. 

The  most  recent  excursions  in  the  way  of  mount- 
ain climbing  were  those  taken  by  Dr.  Norman  Collie 
and  Mr.  G.  P.  Baker  to  the  Saskatchewan  River  in 
1897  and  1898  in  search  of  Mt.  Brown  and  Mt. 
Hooker.  The  first  trip,  which  was  primarily  for  the 
purpose  of  mountain  climbing,  was  eventually  made 
to  embrace  exploratory  and  survey  work. 

"Our  party,"  writes  Dr.  Collie,  "consisted  of 
G.  P.  Baker  and  myself,  P.  Sarbach  (a  Swiss  guide), 
W.  Peyto,  L.  Richardson,  and  C.  Black,  cook.  The 
weather  was  excessively  hot  and  the  mosquitoes 
swarmed  in  countless  thousands,  making  life  misera- 
ble." Not  an  unusual  condition  of  things  in  these 
mountains.  On  the  24th  of  August  they  climbed  Mt. 
Sarbach,  eleven  thousand  feet  high,  the  last  of  the 
Waputehk  Range,  lying  between  the  Little  and  Mid- 
dle Forks  of  the  Saskatchewan.  Speaking  of  Mt. 
Forbes,  Professor  Collie  writes  : 


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On  August  27th  we  arrived  at  the  foot  of  the 
valley  leading  to  the  glaciers  we  had  seen  two  days 
before  from  Mt.  Sarbach,  towards  the  westward. 
Directly  to  the  north  of  us  was  the  peak  we  were  in 
search  of.  Later  on,  consulting  Palliser's  'Journals,' 
we  found  that  this  peak  was  not  Mt.  Murchison,  as 
we  had  supposed,  but  Mt.  Forbes,  discovered  by  Dr. 
Hector,  and  estimated  by  him  to  be  about  1 3,400  feet. 
Mt.  Forbes  is  certainly  one  of  the  highest  peaks  in  the 
Canadian  Rockies,  and  must  be  close  on  fourteen 
thousand  feet.  I  have  seen  it  on  every  side  except 
the  north-west,  and  it  always  towers  as  a  huge  three- 
sided  pyramid  at  least  three  thousand  feet  above  the 
surrounding  peaks,  which  are  from  ten  to  eleven 
thousand  feet  high.  The  precipice  on  its  eastern  face 
is  more  sheer  than  the  western  face  of  the  Matter- 
horn,  and  even  after  a  heavy  snowfall  remains  black 
and  forbidding.  On  its  northern  side  the  peak  must 
stand  about  seven  thousand  feet  above  the  glacier  at 
its  base." 

The  following  year  Messrs.  H.  Woolley,  H.  E.  M. 
Stutfleld,  and  Dr.  Collie  commenced  a  more  exten- 
sive journey  into  the  same  region.    The  latter  says  : 

"On  July  31st,  we  started  from  Laggan,  with 
W.  Peyto  as  our  head  man  ;  Nigel  Vavasour,  Roy 
Douglas,  and  M.  Byers,  as  cook,  also  accompanied  us. 
We  started  with  thirteen  riding  and  baggage  ponies, 
but  within  an  hour  of  starting  reduced  that  unlucky 
number  to  twelve,  for  we  had  to  shoot  one  of  the 
worst  of  the  pack  after  it  had  broken  its  shoulder 


:  m 


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two  days 
westward, 
e  were  in 
Journals,' 
chison,  as 
ed  by  Dr. 
3,400  feet, 
iaks  in  the 
1  fourteen 
ide  except 
uge  three- 
above  the 
to  eleven 
astern  face 
le  Matter- 
lains  black 
peak  must 
i  glacier  at 

/,  H.  E.  M. 
ore  exten- 
atter  says  : 
^gan,  with 
isour,  Roy 
ipanied  us. 
age  ponies, 
lat  unlucky 
one  of  the 
ts  shoulder 


T/ie  Waputehk  Range. 
Looking  across  the  range  from  near  Hector. 


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IDlew  of  HDt  f orbed 


253 


amongst  the  dead  timber.  Instead  of  following  up 
the  Bow  Valley  as  we  did  in  1897,  I  determined  to 
reach  the  Saskatchewan  River  by  way  of  the  Pipe- 
stone Pass  and  the  Siflfleur  Valley,  in  order  that  we 
might  investigate  Mt.  Murchison." 

This  peak  was  estimated  at  not  "  much  over 
twelve  thousand  feet  high,  if  as  much."  Their  most 
interesting  work  was  done  much  farther  north, 
between  the  sources  of  the  North  Fork  of  the  Sas- 
katchewan and  the  Athabasca.  From  the  summit 
of  Athabasca  Peak,  in  that  region,  which  they  es- 
timated at  about  11,900  feet,  a  magnificent  view 
was  obtained.  Speaking  of  this  in  the  Geographical 
fournal.  Dr.  Collie  says  : 

"  Mt.  Lyell  and  Mt.  Forbes  could  be  seen  far  off  in 
the  haze.  But  it  was  towards  the  west  and  north 
that  the  chief  interest  lay.  We  were  looking  on 
country  probably  never  before  seen  by  human  eye. 
A  vast  snow-field,  feeding  many  glaciers,  lay  at  our 
feet,  rock-peaks  and  snow-covered  mountains  were 
ranged  around  it,  whilst  far  away  to  the  westward 
we  could  just  see  through  the  haze  the  valley  of  the 
Columbia  River.  This  great  snow-field,  from  which 
w.ie  Saskatchewan  glacier  takes  its  rise,  also  supplies 
the  ice  for  another  glacier  at  the  headwaters  of  the 
Athabasca  ;  whilst  to  the  west  we  saw  the  level 
snows  bending  over  to  flow  down  more  than  one 
channel,  feeding,  when  melted,  the  rivers  that 
empty  themselves  into  the  Pacific  Ocean. 

"A  magnificent  peak,  that  is  probably  near  to 


:!     ■ 


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'V'^ 


254 


Woe  KocMed  of  Canada 


fourteen  thousand  feet  high,  stood  alone  keeping 
guard  over  these  unknown  western  valleys.  We 
have  ventured  to  name  it  after  the  Right  Hon. 
James  Bryce,  President  of  the  Alpine  Club.  Some 
few  miles  to  the  north  of  this  peak,  and  also  on  the 
opposite  side  of  the  snow-field  in  a  north-westerly 
direction,  the  biggest  peak  of  all  was  seen.  Chisel- 
shaped  at  the  head,  covered  with  glaciers  and  ice,  it 
also  stood  alone,  and  I  at  once  recognised  the  great 
peak  I  was  in  search  of ;  moreover,  a  short  distance 
to  the  north-east  of  this  peak  another,  almost  as 
high,  also  flat-topped,  but  ringed  round  with  sheer 
black  precipices,  reared  its  head  above  all  its  fellows 
into  the  sky.  Here,  then,  we  thought,  were  Brown 
and  Hooker.  Rapidly  I  drew  lines  in  all  directions 
to  these  new  peaks  on  my  plane-table,  but  hurry  as 
fast  as  1  could,  it  was  6.30  p.  m.  before  we  started 
down  from  the  summit  of  this  mountain,  which  we 
have  named  Athabaska  Peak.  Its  height  by  mer- 
curial barometer  is  11,900  feet.  It  was  10.45  when 
we  got  back  into  camp,  to  find  that  Stutfield  had 
killed  three  if  not  four  sheep.  The  provision  ques- 
tion, therefore,  was  satisfactorily  settled  for  some 
time  to  come. 

' '  The  glacier  that  fed  the  headwaters  of  the  Atha- 
basca River  we  have  called  the  Athabasca  glacier. 
Two  days  later  we  all  three  camped  with  sleeping- 
bags  as  far  up  its  right  bank  as  possible,  and  in  the 
dark  at  three  o'clock  next  morning  started  up  the 
glacier  by  lantern-light.    This  glacier  descends  from 


■*!««*» 


m 


Bdcent  ot  atbabaeca  pealt 


255 


the  snow-fields  above  in  three  successive  ice-falls,  the 
last  one  very  much  crevassed.  It  was  not  till  past 
seven  o'clock  that  we  finally  emerged  on  to  the 
snow-fields  above.  The  day  was  warm  and  sultry, 
making  us  all  feel  tired.  For  several  hours  we 
walked  across  the  snow  towards  the  high  chisel- 
shaped  peak ;  to  the  westward  Mt.  Bryce  sent  its 
three  peaks  high  above  us  into  the  air.  A  double- 
headed  peak  on  the  north  hid  the  high  rock-peak  we 
thought  might  be  Brown  (afterwards  named  Mt. 
Alberta)  when  we  were  on  the  top  of  the  Athabasca 
peak.  But  the  peak  we  were  walking  towards  was 
farther  off  than  we  thought,  and  as  it  seemed  very 
unlikely  that  we  should  get  to  the  top  of  it  that  day, 
we  turned,  after  having  looked  down  into  a  vast 
amphitheatre  that  lay  between  the  chisel-shaped 
peak  (afterwards  named  Mt.  Columbia)  and  the 
double-headed  peak,  or  the  Twins.  This  amphi- 
theatre is  the  source  of  another  branch  of  the  Atha- 
basca. To  the  south-east  of  where  we  were,  and 
almost  on  our  way  home,  rose  a  great  dome  of  snow. 
After  a  hot  and  very  tiring  climb  through  soft  snow 
that  broke  under  our  feet  at  every  step,  we  finally 
got  to  the  summit  at  3. 15  p.m.  (i  i  ,650  feet).  Although 
we  did  not  know  it  at  the  time,  we  were  standing 
on  probably  the  only  peak  in  North  America  the 
snows  of  which,  when  melted  find  their  way  into 
the  Pacific,  the  Arctic,  and  the  Atlantic  oceans ;  for 
its  glaciers  feed  the  Columbia,  the  Athabasca,  and 
the  Saskatchewan  rivers." 


. 


1 

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1  1 

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II 

256 


Wk  1Roc\Ac9  of  Canaba 


Climbing  in  the  Selkirks  began  somewhat  earlier 
than  in  the  Rockies  proper.  The  reason  apparently 
is  that  the  railroad  runs  nearer  to  the  mountains  in 
the  Selkirks  and  gives  effects  of  height  and  grandeur 
that  are  only  obtained  in  the  eastern  range  while  on 
camping  excursions.  Thus  the  Selkirks  attracted  the 
first  climbers,  such  as  Green,  Ruber,  and  Sulzer,  in 
1887  or  only  one  year  after  the  railroad  was  in  opera- 
tion. The  absence  of  trails  through  this  grand  but 
rain-soaked  range  has,  so  far,  confined  the  attacks  of 
mountaineers  to  peaks  which  are  only  a  few  miles 
from  the  railroad.  The  remoter  parts  of  this  range 
are  less  known  than  almost  any  part  of  the  Rockies, 
where  from  prehistoric  times  the  Indians  have  kept 
trails  open  in  order  to  hunt  and  barter  their  pos- 
sessions with  other  tribes.  What  grand  mount- 
ain-climbing possibilities  the  Selkirks  may  have  to 
disclose  can  only  be  judged  by  the  comparatively 
narrow  strip  already  known. 

The  summit  range  has,  however,  more  to  offer  to 
the  mountain  climber.  Some  of  the  greatest  peaks, 
like  Mt.  Forbes  and  Mt.  Assiniboine,  have  not  yet 
been  seriously  attempted,  and  no  high  peak  outside 
of  Mt.  Stephen  has  been  ascended  twice.  There  is  a 
group  of  mountains  east  and  south  of  Mt.  Temple 
which  have  never  been  attempted  and  should  prove 
fine  problems  in  rock  and  glacier  climbing.  Among 
these  are  Mt.  Hungabee  and  its  higher  neighbour 
Mt.  Deltaform,  each  of  which  is  wedge-shaped  and 
very  precipitous  on  every  side  that  has  been  seen. 


lat  earlier 
pparently 
jntains  in 

grandeur 
:  while  on 
racted  the 
Sulzer,  in 

in  opera- 
^rand  but 
attacks  of 
few  miles 
this  range 
i  Rockies, 
have  kept 
their  pos- 
d  mount- 
y  have  to 
paratively 

to  offer  to 
est  peaks, 
not  yet 
k  outside 
here  is  a 
Temple 
uld  prove 
Among 
leighbour 
aped  and 
sen  seen. 


// 


Mount  Sir  Donald,  from  Eagle  Peak: 


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future  of  nDountaitMnimblna         257 

The  high  peaks  of  volcanic  rock,  Mts.  Vaux  and 
Goodsir,  between  the  Ottertail  and  Beaverfoot  rivers, 
and  some  of  the  sharp  summits  in  the  Van  Home 
Range  should  soon  attract  attention.  It  would  be 
difficult  to  cover  the  entire  field  of  mountain-climb- 
ing possibilities  and  the  time  «s  not  ripe  to  go  much 
into  details.  Where  each  group  of  mountains  has 
charms  of  its  own  there  is  room  for  much  choice. 
One  principle  however  seems  universally  true,— that 
where  the  heart  has  been  set  on  a  particular  region 
no  other  has  claims  of  equal  importance. 


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CHAPTER  XIV 

KINDS  OF  GAME  ANIMALS  IN  THE  MOUNTAINS  —  THE  ROCKY 
MOUNTAIN  GOAT  —  A  SUCCESSFUL  STALK  — A  DIFFICULT 
NIGHT  ASCENT  —  HOW  GOAT  MEAT  SHOULD  BE  COOKED 
—  AN  EXPERIENCE  ON  THE  SASKATCHEWAN  — MANY  GOATS 
AROUND  LAKE  LOUISE  —  INTERESTING  ADVENTURE  ON  A 
MOUNTAIN  CLIMB  — THE  MOUNTAIN  SHEEP  — ITS  HABITS 
AND  NATURE  —  SUDDEN  APPEARANCE  OF  A  LARGE  BAND  — 
CURIOUS  INSTANCE  OF  TAMENESS  —  SEVERAL  KINDS  OF 
GROUSE  — THE  ALPINE  PTARMIGAN —FISHING  IN  LAKES  AND 
STREAMS — WHERE  FISH  CANNOT  BE  FOUND— SOME  STORIES 
ABOUT  THE  UPPER  BOW  RIVER  —  A  REMARKABLE  CATCH  — 
VARIATION  OF  FISH  IN  DIFFERENT  LAKES  —  SPORT  AT  MO- 
RAINE LAKE  —  ON  A  RAFT  AT  THE  SPRAY  LAKES  —  LARGE 
FISH  CAUGHT  IN  DEVIL'S  LAKE  —  FUTURE  OF  THE  ROCKIES 
AS  A  RESORT  FOR  SPORTSMEN 

GAME  in  the  Canadian  Rockies  is  moderately 
abundant.  The  chief  wild  animals,  besides 
black  and  grizzly  bears,  are  moose,  elk, 
deer,  caribou,  sheep  or  bighorn,  and  the  Rocky 
Mountain  goat.  The  several  species  belonging  to  the 
deer  tribe  are  very  scarce  and  hunters  rarely  bag  any 
of  this  game.  This  scarcity  is  probably  due  to  the 
rather  limited  feeding-grounds  in  the  narrow  valleys 
and  perhaps,  also,  to  long  and  severe  winters. 

About   1840,  according  to  a  statement  of  the 

258 


ijLJJWunifl.jea! 


aMooii 


(Bamc  Bnimal0  in  tbe  flDountaina      259 

missionary  De  Smet,  the  Stony  Indians  came  from  the 
north  and  settled  on  the  plains  near  the  Bow  River. 
They  always  have  been  and  are  still  inveterate 
hunters,  delighting  in  frequent  expeditions  into  the 
mountains,  where  they  engage  in  wholesale  slaughter 
of  big  game.  Fortunately,  however,  they  have  been 
recently  compelled  to  submit  to  certain  laws,  which, 
if  enforced  for  a  few  years,  will  make  game  much 
more  plentiful.  The  Indians  believe  in  certain  cycles 
of  about  seven  years  when  the  various  species  of 
game  animals  become  alternately  scarce  and  more 
abundant,  whether  from  disease  or  some  other  cause 
is  not  known. 

Among  big  game  the  animal  most  characteristic 
of  the  Rockies  of  Canada  and  which,  from  its  scarcity 
in  other  parts  of  the  country  the  sportsman  is  most 
anxious  to  get,  is  the  wild  goat.  This  animal  at  a 
distance  has  the  general  appearance  of  a  goat,  though 
it  is  a  species  of  antelope  and  more  closely  related  to 
the  ibex  or  chamois  of  Switzerland.  It  is  covered 
with  a  dense  coat  of  soft  white  wool,  through  which 
a  mingling  of  longer  hair  projects,  especially  on  the 
belly  and  stout  legs.  Both  sexes  have  round,  black 
horns  six  to  twelve  inches  long,  slightly  curved  back- 
wards and  very  sharply  pointed.  An  adult  animal, 
when  cornered,  can  put  up  a  strong  fight  against  ene- 
mies of  its  own  size,  and  I  have  heard  of  an  Indian 
nearly  losing  his  life  in  a  close  encounter  with  an  old 
male.  A  full-grown  goat  sometimes  weighs  more 
than  two  hundred  pounds.    The  Indians  kill  a  large 


m 


M 


111 


<1    \n 


■ 


)\ 


tS: 


I 


i, 

,   ■f|ii 


U     S) 


till: ' : 


f 


260 


Zhc  ItocMee  of  Cana^a 


number  of  them  every  year  for  their  flesh  and  hides, 
which  latter  they  tan  into  a  soft  leather.  Neverthe- 
less the  mountain  goat  is  very  abundant  and  probably 
actually  increasing  in  numbers. 

Its  natural  environment  is  among  high  and  almost 
inaccessible  cliffs  near  the  upper  limit  of  vegetation,  or 
in  the  alps  and  meadows  above  tree-line.  Rarely  do 
these  animals  come  far  below  tree-line  during  the 
summer.  They  are  apparently  slow  and  clumsy  in 
their  movements  and  have  a  swinging  gait  like  a  bear, 
a  resemblance  that  at  a  distance  is  increased  by  the 
fact  that  they  hold  their  heads  very  low.  In  spite  of 
apparent  slowness  they  run  over  the  roughest  rocks 
at  a  rapid  pace  and  climb  with  certainty  cliffs  that  are 
inaccessible  to  man.  They  run  singly  or  in  groups 
of  from  three  to  seven  during  the  summer  months, 
browsing  upon  the  tender  Alpine  plants  which  grow 
between  seven  and  nine  thousand  feet  above  the  sea. 
In  some  of  the  lower  valleys  there  are  clay  banks 
containing  minerals  which  they  travel  miles  to  taste, 
and  the  number  of  tracks  leading  in  several  directions 
show  that  such  "  licks  "  are  much  frequented. 

My  first  goat  was  killed  near  the  base  of  Mt.  Assini- 
boine.  West  of  our  camp  there  was  a  long  ridge  of 
nearly  horizontal  ledges  for  the  first  thousand  feet  or 
so  from  the  valley,  while  the  rocks  were  more  pre- 
cipitous above.  On  our  various  excursions  we  had 
noticed  fresh  tracks  of  goats,  while  the  low  spruce 
and  underbrush  were  in  many  places  covered  with 
tufts  of  white  wool  which  had  been  torn  from  the 


^■ 


l!feMWM£aSjIdr3WtiBgM'-'T»iiiirr 


atMBOtei 


Zbc  Voc\{^  nDountain  (Boat 


361 


animals  as  they  passed.  However,  no  game  had 
been  seen  till  one  afternoon,  when  a  goat  was  ob- 
served walking  along  the  cliff  a  few  hundred  feet 
above  our  level  and  not  half  a  mile  distant.  Two  of 
us  made  off  in  pursuit,  and  after  climbing  to  a  higher 
ledge,  followed  the  innumerable  gorges  and  rocky 
spurs  of  the  mountain-side  in  the  hope  of  getting  a 
shot.  But  our  game  made  better  progress  than  we 
and  eventually  eluded  us  altogether.  After  a  three- 
hours'  hunt  we  returned  to  camp  much  disappointed  ; 
but  while  we  were  at  dinner  the  goat  appeared  again, 
this  time  much  higher  on  the  mountain.  My  com- 
panion had  had  enough,  and  though  it  was  getting 
late  1  determined,  after  having  been  once  baffled,  to 
have  that  goat  if  it  was  necessary  to  stay  out  all 
night.  The  animal  had  scrambled  down  a  number 
of  exceedingly  steep  places  to  a  narrow  shelf  below 
which  was  a  vertical  precipice  that  made  him  pause. 
At  frequent  intervals  he  would  look  down  as  though 
he  wanted  to  descend  the  cliff,  but  there  was  not  the 
slightest  foothold  for  even  such  a  skilful  mountaineer. 
I  watched  the  animal  from  the  cover  of  some  larches 
with  the  purpose  of  fixing  in  my  mind  the  outline  of 
a  certain  snow  patch.  1  felt  that  the  success  of  the 
hunt  would  depend  on  knowing  exactly  where  the 
game  was  when  I  should  come  down  for  a  shot. 
The  mountain  goat  must  be  stalked  from  above.  Ex- 
perience has  taught  them  that  their  chief  enemies, 
bears  and  panthers,  come  from  below.  They  pay 
little  attention  to  anything  above  them  except  to  run 


i 
'  1 


<RJ 


,1 , 


262 


Jlbc  'RocMcd  of  Canada 


[. 


iiv' 


::i 


to  cover  of  some  projecting  cliff  whenever  stones 
rattle  down  the  mountain-side.  After  the  exact  out- 
line of  the  snow  patch  that  marked  the  position  of 
the  goat  had  been  fixed  in  memory,  1  set  out  to 
scramble  up  the  grassy  slope,  concealed  from  possible 
view  of  my  game.  1  climbed  nearly  a  thousand  feet 
and  then  had  a  difficult  scramble  among  some  tre- 
mendous crags  and  rock  fragments  with  dark  caverns 
and  patches  of  treacherous  snow  between  them. 
Darkness  was  coming  on  rapidly  under  the  shadow 
of  the  mountain,  and  the  north-western  twilight  was 
fading,  as  it  was  nearly  nine-thirty.  The  snow  was 
hardening  under  the  frost,  and  some  pools  were  freez- 
ing as  I  followed  a  gently  descending  ledge  and  saw 
before  me  the  well-marked  snow  patch,  under  which 
the  goat  had  been  standing  when  1  left  the  valley. 
Pausing  a  brief  moment  to  take  breath  after  the  rapid 
climb,  I  worked  over  to  the  cliff  edge  cautiously  but 
not  without  disturbing  some  shaly  stones,  which 
pattered  down  and  rattled  over  the  precipice.  Aroused 
by  these  stones,  no  doubt,  I  then  saw  the  goat  not 
far  below  looking  at  me  with  a  curiously  sullen  ex- 
pression. I  aimed,  but  had  sufficient  presence  of 
mind  not  to  fire  because  the  foresight  of  my  rifle  was 
making  circles  around  my  mark  owing  to  a  combina- 
tion of  "  buck  fever"  and  the  rapid  climbing  which 
I  had  just  done.  It  seemed  a  long  time  before  I 
could  make  proper  aim,  and  then  after  a  flash  there 
was  a  dull  thud  far  below.  Leaning  over  the  cliff  1 
saw  the  goat  at  the  bottom  of  the  precipice  rolling 


■  jsm 


"iTiriL'-'Tr^."iiBa«' 


lii 


HEAD  OF  ROCKY  MOUNTAIN  GOAT 


»  ' 


i 


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..II 


li 


SI' 


t    : 


I; 


'\{l 


>\\ 


J 


B  Succeeeful  Stalft 


263 


over  and  over  down  the  mountain-side.  After  a 
circuitous  descent  I  reached  the  cliff  bottom,  and 
found  a  large  hole  in  frozen  snow,  where  the  goat's 
body  had  struck  after  a  fail  of  fully  one  hundred  and 
twenty-five  feet.  The  poor  animal  was  some  distance 
below,  still  alive  though  mortally  wounded.  I  de- 
spatched the  animal  with  another  bullet,  and  at  ten- 
thirty  started  for  camp. 

It  was  now  dark  and  the  trees  and  rocks  were 
dimly  outlined  under  the  starlight.  A  precipitous 
ledge  below  compelled  a  detour.  Thinking  that  the 
end  of  this  had  been  reached  I  commenced  to  descend 
a  rather  steep  place  which  at  first  seemed  easy 
enough.  By  a  succession  of  groping  movements, 
aided  by  projecting  roots  and  stones,  1  lowered  my- 
self from  one  point  to  another  till  at  length,  with  one 
hand  firmly  grasping  a  young  balsam,  I  found  myself 
hanging  over  a  cliff  supported  by  one  arm.  It  was 
impossible  to  tell  how  high  the  cliff  might  be,  which 
gave  little  encouragement  to  jump  into  the  darkness 
and  risk  a  fall.  Just  then  the  rifle  began  to  slip,  and 
a  most  tiresome  struggle  ensued  to  place  it  securely 
with  one  hand  while  the  other  supported  the  entire 
weight  of  my  body.  Though  everything  seemed 
fairly  safe  in  going  down,  the  bushes  broke  or  came 
out  by  the  roots  as  I  tried  to  climb  up,  and  the  smooth 
stones  offered  no  grip  to  my  fingers.  Sheer  neces- 
sity resulted  in  success  at  last  after  some  desperate 
efforts.  Camp  was  reached  toward  midnight,  and 
around  the  blazing  fire  I  told  of  my  successful  hunt. 


!y 


I 


1; 


J 


I     ii 


I  I 


264 


Zbc  VocMee  of  Canada 


! 


Peyto  and  Lang  took  a  stout  pole  in  the  morning 
and  brought  the  goat  down  to  camp,  where  the  meat 
was  carefully  dressed  and  laid  away  in  a  neighbouring 
snow-bank.  The  meat  of  these  animals  is  somewhat 
like  venison,  though  it  has  a  musky  flavour  which  is 
too  strong  for  many  palates.  However,  in  my  expe- 
rience, when  the  meat  is  broiled,  or  fried  with  bacon, 
and  well  seasoned  with  salt  and  pepper,  it  is  quite 
impossible  to  say  whether  the  cook  has  served  goat 
or  the  very  best  mutton.  Goat  meat  should  never  be 
boiled  or  stewed,  as  the  musky  flavour  is  then 
apparent. 

In  1896  Mr.  Barrett  and  I  were  camped  at  the 
forks  of  the  Saskatchewan,  a  seven-days'  journey 
into  the  wilds.  Our  camp  was  in  a  small  canyon 
near  the  turbulent  Little  Fork,  and  our  tents  were 
placed  in  an  open  grove  of  spruce  on  a  flat  gravel 
bed.  On  the  evening  of  our  arrival  Barrett  and  I, 
accompanied  by  Fred  Stephens,  an  experienced  back- 
woodsman from  Michigan,  and  a  great  hunter,  walked 
towards  the  Saskatchewan  River.  Leaving  the  point 
where  the  Little  Fork  pours  its  small  contribution 
into  the  milky  flood  of  glacial  waters,  v/e  strolled 
down  the  valley  for  a  considerable  distance,  when 
suddenly  our  attention  was  called  to  a  large  animal 
upon  the  river-bank  a  mile  or  so  distant.  Stephens, 
who  had  killed  many  bears  in  Montana,  declared  it  was 
a  grizzly.  A  plan  was  made  at  once  for  Stephens  and 
Barrett,  who  had  rifles,  to  follow  the  cover  of  woods 
while  I  made  signals  as  to  the  location  of  the  animal. 


Hn  jejrpcrience  on  tbc  Saelmtcbewan    265 


After  twenty  minutes  I  saw  puffs  of  bluish  smoke 
and  heards  shots  ring  out  from  the  forest,  whereupon 
our  game  reared  up  on  his  hind  legs  and  ran  towards 
the  hunters.  No  more  shots  were  heard,  the  animal 
disappeared  among  trees,  and  it  seemed  best  to  climb 
a  tall  spruce  to  get  a  better  view  over  the  flat  expanse 
of  the  valley,  and,  if  possible,  have  a  look  at  the  game 
and  hunters.  Barrett  and  Stephens  afterwards  said, 
however,  that  I  was  not  up  the  tree  for  any  other 
purpose  than  to  avoid  the  charge  of  a  wounded  grizzly 
which  was  coming  my  way.  It  eventually  proved, 
however,  that  the  supposed  bear  was  nothing  less 
than  a  very  large  goat,  which  must  have  weighed 
three  hundred  pounds. 

This  region  is  frequented  by  mountain  goats,  and 
fresh  tracks  were  to  be  seen  on  the  Indian  trail  near 
our  camp.  One  day  a  kid  walked  along  the  crest  of  a 
low  cliff  within  a  few  yards  of  our  camp.  The  little 
animal  showed  no  fear  of  us,  and  browsed  the  grass 
as  it  sauntered  along.  When  one  of  our  men  fired  a 
pistol  several  times  it  only  looked  startled  for  a 
moment.  I  thought  the  action  of  the  beast  showed 
supreme  contempt  for  the  shooting,  which  was  in- 
deed very  bad.  The  fact  of  our  seeing  two  goais  and 
many  fresh  tracks  at  this  low  altitude,  which  was 
about  thirty-five  hundred  feet  below  the  tree-line, 
proves  that  mountain  goats  sometimes  endure  the 
warmth  of  the  low  valleys.  On  a  hot  summer  day 
the  temperature  might  easily  rise  to  eighty  degrees 
in  such  a  valley,  and  if  the  goats  remain  below  at 


!i 


J  k 


111 


Mi 


u   .Jl 


■\ 


i^ 


i' 


1'  ' 


\i 


ii 


266 


Zbc  "RocMee  of  <LalUl^a 


\  ,1     I 


yih 


such  times  they  must  tolerate  a  much  greater  heat 
than  is  supposed. 

The  abundance  of  goats  in  these  mountains  is 
well  proved  by  the  ease  with  which  the  Indians  kill 
large  numbers  of  them,  and  the  very  good  bags 
made  by  gentlemen  who  have  made  an  earnest  ef- 
fort to  hunt  them.  We  killed  three  and  saw,  all 
told,  about  fifteen  on  this  excursion,  where  hunting 
was  only  a  side-issue  and  engaged  in  at  rare  inter- 
vals. Two  Englishmen,  Col.  Melleden  and  Capt. 
Chartris,  killed  six  goats  and  five  sheep  on  a  three- 
weeks'  hunting  trip  in  this  locality. 

One  of  the  best  places  1  know  for  the  mountain 
goat  is  the  group  of  mountains  around  Lake  Louise. 
1  have  seen  many  of  these  animals  every  year  in  the 
valley  of  Lake  Louise  or  on  the  adjacent  hillsides. 
The  magnitude  of  the  mountains  and  the  distance 
require  very  sharp  eyes  to  see  the  animals,  though 
the  Indians  can  pick  them  out  where  the  white  mr ' 
requires  a  field-glass.  They  are  not  much  hunted, 
and  are  increasing  in  numbers  in  that  neighbour- 
hood. In  October,  1899,  the  telegraph  operator  at 
Laggan  saw  a  large  herd  on  Fairview  Mountain,  and 
a  few  days  later  two  Swiss  guides  saw  fifteen  or 
twenty  on  one  side  of  the  valley  near  Mt.  Lefroy, 
and  a  solitary  animal  several  miles  distant  the  same 
day.  One  of  the  most  interesting  experiences  with 
goats  that  has  come  to  my  experience  occurred  on 
the  day  following.  1  had  made  an  ascent  of  Pope's 
Peak,  a  high  mountain  above  Lake  Agnes,  which 


B^venture  on  a  fl>ountatn  Climb 


267 


latter  the  Indians  used  to  call  the  "Goats'  Looking- 
Glass,"  and,  coming  down  from  the  cliffs  and  danger- 
ous places  of  the  peak  to  safer  travelling,  was 
beginning  to  experience  that  comfortc.ble  feeling 
which  every  mountaineer  enjoys  after  a  successful 
climb  when  the  last  hard  work  is  over.  It  was  a  per- 
fect day  of  sunshine,  with  massive  cumulus  clouds 
and  the  mountains  distinctly  outlined  in  clear  air. 
Having  reached  an  altitude  of  about  eight  thousand 
feet,  I  paused  for  a  few  moments  to  study  the  great 
amphitheatre  of  mountains  and  the  vast  sweep  of 
the  valley.  My  eye  fell  at  once  on  three  goats 
browsing  on  Alpine  herbs  of  a  green  slope.  1  was 
in  full  view  of  them,  and  the  nature  of  the  mountain 
was  such  that  no  concealment  was  possible.  How- 
ever, by  way  of  experiment,  I  continued  the  descent 
with  ordinary  caution,  and,  working  over  to  the  left, 
came  down  upon  them  from  above.  They  were  al- 
together absorbed  in  their  pasture,  and  unmindful  of 
the  pattering  stones  which  I  disturbed  from  time  to 
time.  Whenever  all  of  them  had  their  heads  to 
the  ground  at  the  same  time,  I  ran  some  distance, 
crouching  under  the  cover  of  low  bushes,  and  then 
waited  for  another  opportunity.  The  unwary  ani- 
mals paid  no  heed  till,  in  wonder  at  their  stupidity, 
I  stood  up  in  full  view,  not  ten  yards  distant  from 
the  nearest  goat !  Even  then  I  received  only  a  sul- 
len look  from  the  old  billy.  He  made  a  curious 
picture  as  he  flapped  his  ears  constantly  to  drive 
away  the  pestiferous  grey  gnats  which  swarm  in 


^ 


V 


ii. 


rf 

1, 

:  ill 

'l 


•  i 


%\ 


268 


Zbc  'Rocltie0  ot  Canada 


the  autumn  and  which  were  bothering  me  likewise. 
1  reached  for  a  large  stone,  and  shied  it  at  him  ;  but 
he  was  so  close  that  it  went  over  his  back.  Then 
they  commenced  to  run.  It  is  said  that  mountain 
goats  invariably  run  up-hill,  even  in  the  face  of  dan- 
ger, but  1  was  determined  not  to  let  them  do  so. 
They  wheeled  to  the  left,  and  I  likewise,  running 
over  rough  stones  aiid  through  scrubby  brush  as 
though  my  life  depended  on  the  chase.  I  got  a 
glimpse  of  the  goats  heading  up,  but  I  was  still  di- 
rectly above  them.  They  saw  me  and  turned  back. 
Then  for  an  interval  they  were  lost  to  view,  and  in  a 
few  moments  they  appeared  in  the  valley  bottom, 
loping  like  wolves  over  the  rough  stones  and  up  the 
opposite  slope,  pausing  to  look  around  in  terror  be- 
fore making  a  final  dash  for  safety.  It  was  not  long 
before  they  were  at  my  level  on  the  mountain  op- 
posite, and  then  they  came  to  what  appeared  an 
abrupt  precipice.  They  seemed  to  spring  into  the 
air  and  reach  a  foothold  of  some  kind  several  feet 
above  them,  pause,  and  leap  again.  They  were  not 
content  till  they  had  climbed  more  than  a  thousand 
feet  to  the  summit  of  a  rough  crag  called  the 
"Devil's  Thumb,"  when  they  disappeared  through 
a  little  depression  into  the  valley  of  Lake  Louise 
on  the  other  side. 

The  Rocky  Mountain  sheep  or  bighorn  has  sim- 
ilar habits.  This  noble  animal,  though  somewhat 
scarce,  seems  to  reach  the  best  development  of  head 
and  horns  in  these  Canadian  Rockies.    1  have  never 


mmmm 


^be  HDountain  Sbeep 


269 


s  sim- 
ewhat 
)f  head 
never 


seen  heads  from  Montana  or  the  Sierras  to  compare 
with  the  beautiful  sweep  of  horns  that  is  common  to 
sheep  killed  in  these  mountains.  In  speaking  of  the 
bighorn  John  Muir  says  : 

"The  domestic  sheep,  in  a  general  way,  is  ex- 
pressionless, like  a  dull  bundle  of  something  only 
half  alive,  while  the  wild  is  as  elegant  and  graceful 
as  a  deer,  and  every  movement  tells  the  strength  and 
grandeur  of  his  character.  The  tame  is  timid,  the 
wild  is  bold.  The  tame  is  always  more  or  less  ruf- 
fled and  dirty ;  while  the  wild  is  as  smooth  and 
clean  as  the  flowers  of  his  mountain  pastures." 

Whereas  the  mountain  goat  is  clothed  in  a  coat 
of  white  wool,  the  sheep  has  a  thick  pelt  of  stiff  and 
rather  brittle  hair  which,  in  colouring,  harmonizes 
with  the  grey  and  brownish  cliffs  where  he  roams. 
They  are  more  wary  than  the  goat,  and  require  care- 
ful stalking.  The  mountain  sheep  is  less  abundant 
than  formerly  because  the  Indians  seek  them  persist- 
ently. Fine  heads  always  bring  a  good  price  for 
mounting,  and  this,  in  addition  to  their  excellent 
meat,  makes  them  eagerly  sought  after. 

I  have  seen  the  wild  sheep  only  in  one  part  of 
the  Canadian  Rockies,  though  they  live  sparingly 
throughout  the  higher  mountains  and  especially  in 
the  foot-hills  and  Coast  range.  One  day,  when  we 
were  journeying  to  the  Athabasca  Pass,  we  found 
ourselves  far  above  timber  on  a  lofty  divide  between 
the  Saskatchewan  and  Athabasca.  While  spread  out 
in  single  file,  our   fifteen    horses   were    marching 


/'i 

11 


I 


m 


I 


■A 


Ml.  '■ 


i\\ 


■I  / 


270 


ZTbe  VocMee  of  Canada 


II 


I ' 


through  a  rolling  upland  pasture  in  silence.  Sud- 
denly a  bunch  of  wild  sheep  ran  upon  an  eminence 
not  fifty  yards  distant  to  look  at  us.  This  was  a 
magnificent  revelation  of  animal  life.  Twenty-seven 
wild  sheep  proudly  outlined  against  the  sky  1  Mo- 
tionless they  stood  gazing  at  us  in  amazement  while 
we  studied  their  graceful  forms  and  curved  horns 
raised  high  in  air.  Every  rifle  was  tied  to  the  saddle, 
as  luck  would  have  it,  and  a  long  march  through  rain 
and  wet  brush  had  made  unyielding  knots  in  the 
leather  straps.  While  we  were  getting  at  the  fire- 
arms :  miserable  pet  spaniel,  which  had  hitherto 
proved  utterly  unfit  to  find  or  recover  game,  ran  for- 
ward barking.  With  a  sudden  turn  the  whole  band 
made  off,  showing  their  white  rumps  as  they  bounded 
away  for  miles  over  the  hills. 

We  hunted  them  from  our  camp  later.  Fred 
Stephens  shot  one  at  long  range,  but  the  animal 
struggle^^  away  and  fell  over  soi  ie  cliffs  where  it  was 
impossible  to  follow.  The  next  day  two  sheep  ap- 
peared on  the  mountain  five  hundred  feet  above  the 
camp.  They  were  looking  at  us  intently,  and  no 
doubt  wondering  what  manner  of  creatures  we  might 
be.  Barrett  and  1  made  a  long  detour,  and  hunted 
carefully  all  that  day,  but  were  not  able  to  locate 
them.  We  saw  numbers  of  sheep  on  many  occasions 
in  this  particular  place,  which  is  never  hunted  by  the 
Indians  because  of  a  certain  superstition  about  this 
part  of  the  mountain.  A  most  interesting  experience 
occurred  to  Barrett  one  day  when  he  was  making  a 


Sud- 
linence 

was  a 
^-seven 
I  Mo- 
lt while 
I  horns 
saddle, 
igh  rain 

in  the 
he  fire- 
hitherto 
ran  for- 
)le  band 
jounded 

.     Fred 
animal 
e  it  was 
eep  ap- 
ove  the 
and  no 
e  might 
hunted 
locate 
tcasions 
by  the 
)ut  this 
)erience 
aking  a 


I 


'    l: 

i        '  jP.'  < 

If 

J 

I  i 

nffl''' 

1 1 

imi 

i 

mm  ^ 

'      f 

^HE^B^' 

VtS^     .^    > 

Wtm  j., 

K  ^  1'    ' 

II    3 

^bc  TRc 


n 


f 


I  r 


-^m^^'^r 


:eu 


'1; 


m 


w  w 


%\ 


M 


II 


u  ■ 


^ 


;>»'.' 


Curious  Instance  ot  lameness 


271 


lone  mountain  climb.  It  was  the  first  and  only  time 
for  a  month  that  he  had  failed  to  carry  his  rifle.  De- 
scending from  the  mountain  he  came  upon  a  young 
lamb,  and  presently  saw  the  mother  not  far  distant. 
Neither  appeared  much  disconcerted  by  his  presence, 
but  moved  slowly  ahead  as  he  progressed.  The 
lamb  actually  indulging  in  various  friskings  and 
youthful  evolutions  at  a  few  yards'  distance. 

Previous  to  our  visit,  which  was  probably  the  first 
made  by  white  men  to  this  place,  these  sheep  had 
been  seldom  or  never  hunted,  as  the  Indians  got  their 
superstitions  about  the  region  years  before.  They 
were  accordingly  in  a  state  of  primitive  wildness, 
which  may  account  for  these  several  instances  of 
tameness  in  one  of  the  most  wary  of  all  wild  animals. 
Subsequently,  however,  several  hunting  parties  have 
reduced  their  numbers. 

The  moose,  elk,  and  deer  are  very  scarce  except 
in  such  low  and  broad  valleys  as  the  Vermilion  and 
Kootenay.  Few  except  Indians  succeed  in  bagging 
these  animals.  However,  most  hunters  are  more 
eager  to  get  sheep  and  goats,  and  little  effort  has  been 
made  hitherto  in  the  way  of  killing  these  members 
of  the  deer  tribe. 

Bears,  both  black  and  grizzly,  are  fairly  abundant, 
especially  in  the  Selkirk  range,  where  at  Glacier  three 
or  four  have  been  seen  on  several  occasions  in  one  day. 
An  immense  grizzly  was  shot  at  Lake  Louise  several 
years  ago  within  a  few  yards  of  the  chalet,  and  a  number 
of  animals  are  killed  every  season  by  the  railroad  men. 


18 


272 


TTbe  ItocMed  ot  Cana^a 


it 


iji 


I'  II 


.     !i 


^A     .  ) 


ll 


I 


tiH'f 


In  seven  or  eight  seasons  of  marching  through 
these  mountain  wildernesses,  I  have  seen  a  bear  but 
once.  It  is  not  uncommon  to  see  their  tracks,  but  a 
bear  has  acute  hearing,  and  quickly  withdraws  into 
hiding  upon  the  approach  of  a  noisy  pack-train.  The 
Stony  Indians  attack  them  fearlessly.  Though  they 
are  inferior  shots,  two  alone  will  open  up  on  a 
grizzly,  and  it  is  often  said  that  they  will  fight  a  black 
bear  armed  only  with  hunting-knives.  The  Stonies, 
however,  are  incomparable  hunters,  and  it  is  their 
boast  that  like,  Attila,  "the  scourge  of  God,"  be- 
neath whose  feet  the  grass  died  :  "No  game  can  live 
where  we  hunt." 

In  the  way  of  small  game,  there  are  several  species 
of  grouse  and  ducks,  which  are  more  likely  to  fill  the 
larder  of  an  ordinary  camping  expedition  than  big 
game.  The  Richardson  and  Franklin  grouse,  with 
the  grey  ruffed  and  Canadian  ruffed  grouse,  are  closely 
related  to  the  pinnated  grouse  or  prairie  chicken. 
They  live  in  the  forests  everywhere,  and  are  so 
abundant  that  they  make  a  large  and  important  item 
in  the  way  of  fresh  meat.  These  birds  are  excellent 
eating,  being  juicy,  tender,  and  well-flavoured.  It  is 
hardly  fair  to  call  them  "game,"  for  they  are  easily 
killed  by  shooting  their  heads  off  with  a  rifle  as  they 
roost  in  the  trees.  1  have  taken  six  in  half  an  hour, 
armed  with  stones,  though  it  requires  practice  to  pick 
them  off  at  first.  Black  ducks,  mallards,  and  teal  are 
found  in  such  places  as  the  Vermilion  Lakes  near 
Banff,  and  on  all  rivers  and  lakes  in  the  lower  valleys. 


■r 


Zbc  aiplne  ptarmioan 


273 


They  used  to  swarm  in  large  numbers  at  Lake  Louise 
in  September  and  October,  but  have  been  less  nu- 
merous in  the  last  two  01  three  seasons.  The  ptar- 
migan is  an  Alpine  bird,  found  among  the  bare  rocks, 
eight  or  nine  thousand  feet  above  sea-level  in  the 
summer  months.  Their  summer  dress  is  a  pepper- 
and-salt  colour  with  wings  nearly  white,  but  in 
winter  is  snowy  white  throughout,  while  their  legs, 
and  even  the  bottom  of  their  feet,  are  covered 
with  feathers,  possibly  as  a  protection  against  cold. 
These  birds  are  of  the  same  size  as  the  domestic 
pigeon,  considerably  smaller  than  the  grouse,  but 
similar  in  flavour.  They  will  remain  quiet  until  one 
shot  is  fired,  and  if  this  does  not  take  effect,  they  fly 
away  out  of  danger,  thereby  showing  superior  dis- 
cretion to  their  stupid  cousins  of  the  woods. 

With  the  exception  of  goat  hunting,  it  may  safely 
be  said,  that  fishermen  have  better  opportunities  of 
sport  than  the  big-game  hunters  in  the  Rockies  of 
Canada.  It  may  be  broadly  stated  that  every  clear 
stream  abounds  in  trout  if  the  waters  are  not  too 
swift.  The  distribution  of  fish  in  the  numerous  lakes 
depends  on  many  circumstances,  some  of  which  are 
easily  understood ;  as  for  instance  the  absence  of 
fish  in  lakes  of  very  high  altitude,  or  where  a  wa- 
terfall has  made  the  ascent  of  streams  impossible. 
But  in  other  rare  cases,  there  are  large  clear  lakes 
at  reasonable  altitudes,  having  fine  outlet  streams, 
where  there  are  no  fish.  The  most  remarkable 
place  of  the  kind  that  1  have  seen  is  Fortress  Lake, 


1: 


^ii 


*  I 


I 


IWl 


':   1 


»     " 


t)       ?' 


1) 


11 

II 

i 

wl 

H 

'J 

u 

• 

H 

■  V 

H 

!i 

1 

' 

■.?   ' 


274 


^be  ItocMee  of  Cana^a 


seven  miles  long,  which  empties  into  the  Columbia 
River. 

Some  of  the  rivers  are  glacial  streams,  carrying  a 
flood  of  muddy  water  from  ice-fields  of  the  high 
mountains,  and  in  these  no  fish  can  live.  Many 
streams  are  rushing  torrents  or  a  succession  of  rapids, 
swinging  from  right  to  left  in  rapid  descent,  for  miles, 
with  no  pools  or  eddies  where  a  trout  might  find 
rest.  The  upper  Simpson  and  Vermilion  are  such 
streams,  though  fine  trout  abound  in  their  lower 
parts.  The  Bow  is  an  ideal  river  for  mountain  trout, 
with  many  reaches  of  deep  pools  and  eddying  coves, 
as  it  descends  through  its  brond  and  flat  valley,  and 
taking  its  source  in  two  fine  lakes,  three  or  four 
miles  long,  both  of  which  teem  with  large  lake  trout. 
Some  of  the  best  records  in  trout  fishing  have  been 
made  in  these  waters  near  the  source  of  the  Bow. 
The  lakes  have  only  been  tried  from  the  shore,  be- 
cause the  few  parties  that  have  visited  them  have 
not  had  time  to  build  rafts  and  try  the  deepest 
places.  Many  trout  have  been  caught  near  the 
shores  of  the  Upper  Bow  Lake,  which  run  between 
eight  and  twelve  pounds.  The  lower  lake  also  no 
doubt  abounds  in  large  fish,  though  the  only  one  I 
ever  saw  was  a  two-pound  fish  I  got  with  a  fly, 
after  three  minutes'  fishing  from  its  rocky  south 
shore. 

To  give  some  idea  of  the  fishing  in  the  upper 
part  of  the  Bow  River,  where  it  flows  through  the 
muskegs  at  the  base  of  Mt.  Hector,  1  will  first  tell  my 


fidbina  In  Xaltee  atib  Streame 


275 


own  experience,  and  then  give  some  more  remark- 
able records  made  by  others.  One  day  our  men 
were  having  trouble  getting  the  horses  through  a 
muskeg,  when,  by  way  of  experiment,  I  took  a  line  in 
hand  with  an  artificial  fly  attached  and  dropped  it 
from  an  overhanging  bank  on  the  water  of  a  deep 
pool.  A  three-pound  trout  rose  to  the  fly  and  was 
soon  landed.  The  next  carried  away  my  leader,  and 
1  had  to  suspend  operations,  as  our  horses  were  well 
ahead  by  that  time.  In  the  afternoon  I  tried  some 
pools  above  our  camp,  having  no  luck  at  all  in  some, 
while  others  contained  several  trout.  With  a  red 
hackle  1  landed  five  trout  averaging  two  pounds 
each  from  one  pool  in  less  than  three  minutes. 

On  September  13  to  15,  1898,  General  Fred  Pear- 
son and  Captain  Dickerson  caught  the  following 
mess  of  trout  between  the  upper  and  lower  Bow 
lakes : 

I  fish  at  4|  pounds 


<(      a 


6f 

"   ''  8 


I 

at  S\  pounds 

1 

"8| 

(( 

3 

"9i 

(( 

I 

"qf 

<( 

There  is  no  doubt  that  these  Bow  lakes  abound 
in  lake  trout  of  considerable  size.  Wilson  says  that 
the  Indians  used  to  get  numbers  of  large  fish  when, 
for  some  reason,  they  came  into  a  small  stream  which 
enters  the  lake  from  the  north-west.  These  fish  were 
driven  by  shouts  into  shallow  water,  and  so  caught. 
Where  the  stream  flows  out  into  the  lake  is  a  fine 


1 


l.M 


I 
I 


f 


I 


tf 


276 


Zbc  'RocMee  of  Cana^a 


%m 


place  to  fish,  and  when  camped  there  we  caught  a 
great  number  of  two-  and  three-pound  bullhead 
trout.  A  camping  party,  which  had  just  left,  caught 
fewer  fish  in  the  same  place,  but  they  were  all 
between  eight  and  ten  pounds. 

The  fish  in  each  mountain  lake  have  certain  pe- 
culiarities of  size  or  colouring.  In  Lake  Louise  the 
trout  are  from  one-half  to  one  pound  in  weight,  and 
no  large  fish  have  ever  been  caught.  They  are  brook 
trout,  similar,  except  in  lighter  colouring,  to  those 
in  the  brawling  outlet  stream.  Moraine  Lake,  east 
of  Mt.  Temple,  abounds  in  very  gamy  trout,  the  size 
of  which  was  quite  uniformly  between  fifteen  and 
seventeen  inches  in  length.  So  far  as  1  know,  this 
lake  had  never  been  visited  before  the  summer  of 
1899,  when  Ross  Peecock  and  I  camped  there  several 
days.  Here  is  a  lake  full  offish,  which  we  reached 
in  six  hours'  travel  from  Lake  Louise,  and  that,  too, 
by  driving  our  pack-horses  through  the  pathless 
woods.  If  a  trail  were  cut  through  the  timber, 
sportsmen  could  no  doubt  reach  this  splendid  lake 
in  three  or  four  hours.  This  gives  an  instance  of  the 
comparative  wildness  of  the  mountains,  and  their 
wonderful  possibilities  in  the  way  of  sport,  which 
have  not  been  developed  hitherto.  We  found 
another  larger  lake  some  ten  miles  further  south, 
which  drains  into  th^  Little  Vermilion  Creek,  where 
the  fish  were  numerous,  but  of  smaller  size,  averaging 
a  pound  or  more.  They  resemble  rainbow  trout,  but 
were  very  highly  coloured  and  their  gills  fiery  red. 


,ul 


Qn  a  IRatt  at  tbe  Sprain  Xafiee 


277 


There  is  a  lake  about  a  day's  journey  from  Banff, 
in  the  valley  of  Forty  Mile  Creek,  where  sport  is 
impossible  because  the  fish  are  too  numerous.  I  have 
never  seen  it,  but  old  timers  around  Banff  agree  that 
in  this  place  several  fish  dash  to  the  fly  at  one  time, 
so  that  after  a  few  minutes,  fishing  seems  more  like 
slaughter  than  legitimate  sport. 

One  of  the  best  places  for  lake  trout  is  in  the 
Spray  Lakes,  a  day's  march  from  Banff.  This  is  on 
the  route  to  Mt.  Assiniboine,  and  on  my  st'cond 
journey  to  that  region  we  camped  by  the  largest 
of  them,  called  Trout  Lake.  Mr.  Bryant  and  I  got 
on  a  raft,  which  the  miners  from  Canmore  had  built, 
and  after  paddling  out  into  the  lake,  tried  the  fly- 
fishing. Fish  of  one  to  two  pounds  rose  to  the  fly, 
and  we  soon  got  a  large  number  for  lunch.  In  the 
afternoon  we  anchored  the  raft  where  a  large  stream 
enters,  and  while  Bryant  used  the  fly  1  rigged  up  a 
large  hook  and  strong  line,  and  after  baiting  with 
a  piece  of  fresh  fish,  dropped  the  hook  over.  The 
current  carried  out  fifteen  or  twenty  yards  of  line 
and  swept  the  hook  along  the  bottom,  until,  in  a 
short  time,  there  came  a  violent  tug,  as  though 
a  log  had  caught  the  hook.  But  this  was  a  very 
different  pull,  and  1  had  to  let  out  fathoms  of  line. 
A  big  fish  was  on,  and  he  was  rushing  madly  in  every 
direction,  sometimes  coming  nearer,  when  some  slack 
could  be  taken  in,  then  away  again,  while  the  strain- 
ing line  whipping  through  the  water  threatened  to 
break  at  any  time.    In  fifteen  minutes  a  lake  trout 


^t 


ill 


1. 


i 


I 

; 

! 


2  78 


Zbc  'RocMe0  of  Cana&a 


i  1 :  -1 


.ff    ;> 


i?\'.'i 


■t,' 


{V.       1         .     '1   ':'     ' 


that  weighed  fully  nine  pounds  was  landed  on  the 
raft  and  killed.  Three  more  were  caught  in  the  first 
hour,  one  of  which  was  a  ten-pound  fish.  Bryant 
got  one  with  his  trout  rod,  deeming  it  better  sport 
than  a  hand  line,  and  so  it  proved.  It  was  a  twenty- 
minute  fight  between  a  large  fish,  his  line,  and  sup- 
ple rod,  which  was  bent  double,  and  never  recovered 
the  strain  of  that  day.  It  was  a  glorious  sight,  as 
the  declining  sun  was  playing  over  the  broad  waters 
of  the  lake  in  the  majestic  calm  of  evening,  to 
hear  the  whiz  of  the  line  and  the  sound  of  the  reel, 
with  our  friends  on  the  shore  shouting :  "  Go  it,  old 
man,  hang  on  ! "  till  at  last  another  fine  prize  was 
captured.  We  packed  all  our  spare  fish  in  a  wooden 
box  in  cold  moss  and  had  enough  to  supply  the 
hundred  or  more  guests  at  the  Banff  Springs  Hotel. 

Roughly  speaking,  the  size  of  trout  in  the  Upper 
Bow  Lake,  the  largest  of  the  Spray  Lakes,  and  Lake 
Minnewanka,  near  Banff,  is  proportional  to  the  size 
of  the  lakes  themselves.  Lake  Minnewanka,  or  the 
Devil's  Lake,  is  eleven  miles  long,  and  the  fish  are 
both  numerous  and  of  great  size.  A  trout  weighing 
thirty-three  pounds  held  the  record  up  to  1896,  or 
later ;  but  all  records  were  surpassed  by  a  fish  caught 
in  1899  by  Dr.  Seward  Webb,  which  tipped  the 
scales  at  forty-seven  pounds  !  The  total  weight  of 
fourteen  fish  caught  in  this  lake  one  day  by  two 
sportsmen  was  forty-three  pounds.  Sixteen  caught 
the  following  day  weighed  forty-eight  pounds,  or  an 
average  of  about  three  pounds  to  each  fish.    1  have 


Vjiitmui 


Lake 

le  size 

or  the 

sh  are 

ghing 

596,  or 

aught 

d  the 

ghtof 

two 
:aught 

or  an 
I  have 


Zbc  'RocMee  ae  a  'Reeort  tor  Sportemen   279 

heard  that  the  Indians  sometimes  bring  in  fish  of 
unusual  size  from  the  Kananaskis  Lakes  and  other 
bodies  of  water  remote  from  the  railroad ;  but  this 
information  is  second-hand  and  like  all  such,  es- 
pecially in  regard  to  fish,  somewhat  influenced  by 
imagination. 

Generally  speaking,  the  sportsman  should  expect 
to  kill  in  these  Canadian  Rockies  no  big  game  out- 
side of  the  mountain  goat  and  sheep.  With  a  well 
directed  effo't  in  a  proper  region,  especially  if  an 
Indian  hunter  can  be  persuaded  to  assist  him,  he  will 
stand  a  very  fair  chance  of  securing  sheep,  and  al- 
most a  certainty  of  bagging  several  goats.  The 
hunter  will  have  to  rough  it,  and  may  find  the  vi- 
cissitudes of  mountain  travel  more  trying  than  any- 
thing to  be  encountered  in  the  woods  of  Maine  or 
eastern  Canada.  Moreover,  the  pursuit  of  these 
mountain-loving  animals  requires  steady  nerves  and 
considerable  practice  in  climbing.  Such  matters 
add  zest  to  the  chase  and  the  reward  is  fairly 
certain. 

For  the  fisherman  there  is  an  unopened  wilder- 
ness full  of  fine  streams  and  clear  lakes,  in  the  great 
majority  of  which  fish  abound.  Emerald  Lake  and 
Lake  Minnewanka  are  easily  accessible  ;  but  most  of 
them  are  as  yet  only  to  be  reached  by  rough  trails,  or 
by  forcing  a  passage  through  the  forests.  The  re- 
mote bodies  of  water  are,  of  course,  not  supplied  with 
boats,  and  some,  which  are  only  three  or  four  hours' 
journey  from  the  railroad,  have  never  been  fished  ; 


0  '  '■ 

i    '■,  ^ 


t 


! 


I, 


I 


t,' 


.& 


280 


^be  'RocMed  ot  C;maDa 


so  that  the  sportsman,  to  get  the  best  results,  must 
resort  to  rafts  of  his  own  construction,  or  carry  a 
collapsible  boat.  However,  the  waters  of  all  these 
mountain  lakes  are  deep,  and  sometimes  excellent 
fly-fishing  may  be  had  from  their  rocky  shores. 


^f.il5  i 


n 


CHAPTER    XV 

HOME  OF  THE  STONY  INDIANS  —  INFLUENCE  OF  AN  EARLY 
MISSIONARY  —  THE  INDIAN  VILLAGE — TREATY  WITH  THE 
GOVERNMENT  —  POWER  OF  THE  STONIES  IN  WAR  —  THEIR 
CHIEFS  —  SCHOOLS  AND  EFFECTS  OF  EDUCATION  —  RE- 
LIGIOUS TEMPERAMENT  —  QUAINT  SUPERSTITIONS — ANEC- 
DOTE ABOUT  EDWIN  THE  GOLD-SEEKER  —  LOVE  OF  MUSIC 
—  MORALITY  OF  INDIAN  WOMEN  —  ABSTINENCE  FROM 
ALCOHOL  —  INDIAN  PONIES  —  A  BEAR  STORY  —  NEW 
year's  day  celebrations  —  WHERE  THE  STONIES  GET 
THEIR  COURAGE 

THE  Stony  Indians,  a  tribe  unique  in  their  man- 
ner of  life  and  ideas,  live  on  Ine  borders  of 
the  great  Canadian  plains  not  far  from  the 
base  of  the  Rockies.  They  have  few  traditions. 
Except  that  they  are  a  branch  of  the  Sioux,  no  one 
knows  whence  they  came  ;  but  during  the  last  half 
century  at  least  they  have  held  the  foothills  of  the 
Rockies  for  a  home  and  have  used  the  mountains  as 
a  hunting-ground.  The  Stonies  have  the  reputation 
of  being  the  fiercest  fighters  among  the  north-west- 
ern tribes,  and  have  cruelly  punished  their  enemies, 
the  Blackfeet,  in  many  encounters  on  the  plains. 
About  fifty  years  ago,  when  the  first  explorers 

came  in  search  of  a  route  across  the  continent,  this 

281 


-  \ 


I 


It' 


V  • 


;'i^ 


w\\ 


282 


JLbe  HocMed  of  Cana^a 


territory  was  alive  with  savages.  Each  cloud  of 
dust  in  the  distance,  or  band  of  horsemen  scurrying 
lii<e  wind  over  the  plains,  was  a  cause  for  instant 
alarm,  and  no  traveller  was  assured  of  safety  except 
in  arms  or  the  good  will  of  the  Stonies ;  for  the 
Stonies  then,  as  now,  were  friends  of  the  white  men. 

Whatever  may  have  been  the  cause  of  this  friend- 
ship for  the  invading  whites  on  the  part  of  the  most 
influential  Indians  in  the  north-west,  it  is  certain  that 
they  owe  much  of  their  religious  education  to  a  godly 
mai  ■  Mr  Rundle,  a  Methodist  missionary,  who  came 
amoHt-  :;m  about  sixty  years  ago.  To  this  day  the 
older  members  of  the  tribe  cherish  his  name  with 
love  and  feel  a  bond  of  sympathy  for  all  white  men 
through  this  good  man's  influence  ;  for,  "  Did  he  not 
come  among  us,"  they  say,  "a  poor  man  and  go 
away  likewise,  leaving  us  richer  ?  "  It  is  partly  ow- 
ing to  the  impression  of  this  early  missionary's  re- 
markable personality,  but  certainly  also  to  some 
native  strength  of  character,  that  they  have  such  un- 
usually good  traits.  The  Stonies  are  exceptionally 
faithful ;  they  cannot  be  tempted  to  steal,  they  are 
true  to  their  word,  and,  more  incredible  still,  they 
have  an  abhorrence  of  alcohol. 

Their  reserve  is  a  beautiful  place  in  the  terraced 
valley  of  the  Bow  River,  near  the  little  railroad  sta- 
tion of  Morley.  The  surrounding  hills  are  covered 
with  a  scant  turf,  only  green  during  May  and  June, 
soon  to  be  parched  by  summer  drought,  and  then 
frost-bitten  for  half  the  year.     Clumps  of  rough 


Ul  K 


\\h 


^ 


loud  of 
:urrying 

instant 
f  except 

for  the 
te  men. 
;  friend- 
"le  most 
ain  that 
a  godly 
10  came 
day  the 
le  with 
te  men 

he  not 
and  go 
tly  ow- 
y's  re- 
)  some 
ich  un- 
ionally 
ley  are 
1,  they 

;rraced 
ad  sta- 
overed 
1  June, 
d  then 
rough 


In  the  lincnys  Countr 


try. 


/ 


\A\ 


i'    i! 


lii 


1; 

li 

I'.' 

11 

R'    I;  Iff      ! 


1 


'? 


I 


n 


|M 


ii  t; 


h- 


;V  I  ? 


Zl)c  InMan  IDillaae 


283 


Douglas  firs  crown  the  rounded  hilltops  or  grow  on 
the  sides  of  ravines,  and  every  tree  leans  eastward 
as  a  result  of  the  unceasing  west  winds. 

The  Indian  village  is  on  a  small  plain  among 
wooded  hills,  about  a  mile  from  Morley.  It  is  a  col- 
lection of  simple  wooden  houses  which  the  Indians 
have  built  for  themselves,  though  some  still  use  the 
primitive  teepee.  During  a  recent  visit  1  made  my 
first  call  on  Tom  Chiniquay,  a  chief's  son,  to  take 
pictures  of  himself  and  his  wife.  In  his  house  were 
tanned  skins,  beadwork  and  embroidery,  as  well  as 
illustrations  and  cheap  prints  from  our  periodicals. 
In  a  cupboard  were  some  iron  tools  and  other  evid- 
ences of  civilisation.  Chiniquay  arrayed  himself  in 
a  gorgeous  costume  of  ermine  and  otter  fur,  and  put 
on  a  magnificent  head-piece  of  eagle  feathers,  with 
the  sharp,  black  horns  of  the  mountain  goat  on  either 
side.  After  the  ordeal,  Chiniquay  charged  me  a  dol- 
lar for  the  privilege  of  photographing  him,  notwith- 
standing an  old  friendship  between  us.  I  have  never 
learned  whether  this  charge  resulted  from  the  fact 
that  he  is  a  chief's  son,  or  because  of  a  certain  debt 
at  the  "store"  for  which  his  costume  had  been 
mortgaged. 

The  relations  between  the  Canadian  Government 
and  the  Stony  Indians  have  been  always  happy.  At 
a  great  council  of  the  tribes,  held  many  years  ago,  in 
which  the  Blackfeet,  Piegans,  Sarcees,  Bloods,  and 
Stonies  took  part,  a  treaty  was  made  with  the  Stonies 
that  "  so  long  as  the  river  flows  "  they  are  to  receive 


It 


W 
\\»i 


n: 


i;'] 


It 


984 


Zbc  Itocfties  of  Canada 


("riJ  V 


H 


^  '; 


U    { 


rations  of  beef,  flour,  tobacco,  clothing,  and  money, 
in  return  for  the  lands  of  which  they  have  been  dis- 
possessed. The  Stonies  have  behaved  themselves, 
the  Government  has  kept  its  promises,  and  everyone 
is  satisfied. 

There  are  three  Stony  reserves  in  the  north-west, 
but  this  one  at  Morley  is  the  most  important.  At 
this  place  there  were  581  Indians  in  1898,  and  by 
natural  increase  602  a  year  later.  Though  so  few  in 
number,  the  Stonies  have  exercised  strong  influence  on 
the  other  tribes,  due  perhaps  to  their  prowess  in  war ; 
and  nearly  every  enterprise  the  Indians  have  under- 
taken, whether  lawful  or  otherwise,  has  been  a  suc- 
cess if  the  Stonies  joined  and  a  failure  if  they  did  not. 
Thus  the  Riel  rebellion,  in  1885,  though  serious  for  a 
time,  lost  considerable  importance  when  it  was  known 
that  the  Stonies  would  not  lend  their  assistance. 

The  Stonies  have  some  cousins  on  the  plains,  the 
Assiniboines,  who  are  arrant  knaves,  liars,  and  horse- 
thieves,  with  none  of  the  good  traits  of  their  relatives, 
and  nothing  in  common  with  them  except  a  similar 
tongue.  All  the  Indian  tribes  of  these  western  plains 
have  become  more  or  less  united  by  a  century  of  the 
fur  trade  which  brought  them  together  in  a  peaceful 
way.  The  Stonies,  like  the  others,  are  scattered  in 
separate  bands,  the  purest  blood  being  at  the  Morley 
reserve,  amalgamated,  however,  with  the  mountain 
Crees,  and  are  at  best  merely  shattered  remnants  of 
a  tribe  that  has  been  repeatedly  decimated  by  war 
and  smallpox. 


Scbooto  an^  £flect0  of  C^ucation      285 


There  are  three  chiefs  in  this  band,  and  upon  the 
death  of  any  one,  another  is  chosen  by  the  Indians  to 
be  approved  by  the  Government.  Numerous  petty 
marics  of  distinction— a  larger  house,  or  a  more  gor- 
geous costume  on  festal  occasions— are  the  insignia 
of  their  authority,  which  is  not  very  great  and  is 
limited  to  such  matters  as  the  choice  of  camping- 
places  on  their  marches,  a  weightier  influence  in 
council,  and  leadership  in  time  of  war.  One  day  of 
my  visit.  Chief  Chiniquay  came  to  the  agency  on  a 
matter  of  business.  There  was  nothing,  however, 
in  his  simple  blanket  costume  and  knife-belt  to 
distinguish  him  from  the  others.  But  such  was  his 
dignity  and  reserve  that  no  suggestion  was  made 
to  take  his  picture,  especially  as  this  chief  clings  to 
the  ancient  superstition  about  the  camera :  that  it 
shortens  life,  or  at  least  takes  away  some  portion  of 
health. 

The  Indians  on  this  reserve  have  very  good  edu- 
cational advantages.  There  are  two  day-schools 
near  the  village  and  a  boarding-school  some  six  miles 
distant,  which  has  accommodation  for  about  forty 
scholars  and  is  supported  by  the  Methodist  Church. 
At  each  school  the  children  are  taught  simple  arith- 
metic, geography,  and  the  English  language.  There 
are  also  opportunities  for  special  studies,  such  as 
housework  for  the  girls  and  farming  for  the  hoys. 
The  Stonies  are  ambitious  for  their  children,  because 
education  gives  them  standing  among  their  fellows, 
and  they  feel  that  ability  to  act  as  interpreters,  read 


i! 


i 


lij 


p 


286 


Zbc  IRocMcQ  of  Cana^a 


.liV 


the  papers,  or  write  messages  home  when  on  their 
journeys  is  no  small  distinction. 

But  it  cannot  be  said,  in  all  fairness,  that  this 
simple  education  is  always  beneficial.  No  race  can 
jump  a  thousand  generations,  or  even  a  thousand 
years,  and  feel  no  shock.  Education  lends  to  the 
Indian's  betterment  in  many  cases,  but  frequently  also 
to  his  downfall.  The  study  of  farming  is  all  lost  on 
the  Stonies,  because  the  climate  of  their  country,  sit- 
uated two  hundred  miles  north  of  Montana  and  four 
thousand  feet  above  the  sea,  is  not  favourable  to  the 
cultivation  of  even  hardy  vegetables.  Moreover, 
they  have  a  strong  prejudice  against  agriculture,  and 
for  them  to  dig  in  the  ground  is  degradation.  There 
are,  however,  pleasing  exceptions  to  this  tendency  to 
relapse  from  education.  Some  of  the  young  Stonies 
speak  English  perfectly  and  show  by  their  ideas  it 
they  are  not  only  ambitious  but  progressive. 

The  most  surprising  moral  trait  of  the  Stonies  is 
their  sincere  religious  feeling,  a  result  of  early  mis- 
sionary work.  They  attend  church  voluntarily  and 
regularly,  keep  the  Sabbath  strictly,  and  even  go  to 
the  length  of  private  prayer-meetings  at  home.  The 
Christmas  festivities  begin  with  a  church  service,  and 
even  their  names,  such  as  "job  Beaver "  or  "  Enoch 
Wildman,"  which  are  sometimes  acquired  from  per- 
sonal traits  or  circumstance,  also  prove  their  famil- 
iarity with  the  Bible. 

The  Stonies  show  many  of  the  paradoxes  of  a 
savage  tribe  in  a  transition  stage.    Striking  contrasts 


*  1 


^^ 


A  TYPICAL  STONY  INDIAN 


('I 


lu 


m 

■  li ' 

'1 

'■''• 

'  H  f 

V 

f 

1 
I 

1 ' 

•}■  !   ;k 


W4-     .i- 


fi 


iM'i 


m 


Quaint  Super0tition0 


287 


of  ideas  often  occur  in  the  same  individual,  which  at 
times  almost  cause  a  distrust  in  his  sincerity.  In- 
herited superstitions  take  deep  root  in  human  nature, 
and  till  we  ourselves  learn  to  disregard  the  new  moon 
over  our  right  shoulder,  thirteen  at  table,  the  bad 
luck  of  Friday,  and  such  petty  self-delusions,  whose 
influence  we  feel  for  good  or  evil,  we  should  not  be 
too  severe  in  judging  the  Indian. 

Some  beliefs  of  the  Stonies  are,  however,  very  in- 
teresting, and  none  more  so  than  certain  supersti- 
tions in  regard  to  their  hair,  which,  by  the  way,  are 
strangely  like  those  of  the  Hawaiians  and  South  Sea 
islanders.  A  lock  of  hair  in  tlie  possession  of  an 
enemy  is  a  cause  for  great  anxiety,  because  therein 
is  believed  to  lie  the  power  of  life  and  death  over  the 
victim.  So  strong  is  this  feeling  that  even  a  good 
Indian  would  shoot  and  kill,  without  a  moment's  hes- 
itation, any  one  attempting  to  clip  a  lock  of  hair  from 
his  head.  Many  of  their  beliefs,  however,  are  harm- 
less :  such  as  the  idea  that  each  mouthful  of  salt  takes 
a  year  from  life,  and  that  it  is  very  bad  luck  for  a  man 
to  touch  any  article  of  a  woman's  clothing.  The 
younger  women  are  subject  to  strange  cataleptic  fits 
and  fainting  spells,  during  which  their  bodies  become 
apparently  lifeless  and  rigid  as  iron.  There  is  little 
doubt  that  the  medicine  men  havo  a  hypnotic  influ- 
ence which  is  the  cause  of  much  lliat  is  incomprehen- 
sible to  the  Indian  mind.  These  sorcerers  pretend 
to  drive  away  the  evil  spirits  by  charms,  accompanied 
by  an  unending  beating  of  drums  and  mournful 


:!  I 


I  , 


»9 


/' 


ly 


288 


Zl)c  'RocMes  of  Cana^a 


/^ 


chants,  continued  day  and  night,  till  the  patient 
either  recovers,  owing  to  unusual  vitality,  or  dies, 
which  is  more  often  the  case.  Much  of  this  gross 
superstition  is  dying  out  and  now  exists  only  among 
the  weaker  individuals  and  women  in  the  secrecy 
and  fear  fostered  by  the  medicine  men,  who,  in  any 
event,  receive  large  payment  for  their  services. 

The  Indians  have  a  superstition  about  minerals. 
One  of  the  first  white  men  to  prospect  along  the 
Bow  River  was  named  Joe  Healy.  After  much  diffi- 
culty and  many  promises  of  blankets,  flour,  and  tea, 
he  induced  an  Indian  named  Edwin,  the  Gold-Seeker, 
to  show  him  a  place  where  there  was  copper  ore. 
The  other  Indians  shook  their  heads  and  said  the 
spirits  would  be  angry  and  that  something  would 
surely  happen  to  Edwin  for  disturbing  the  minerals. 
But  when  autumn  came,  and  the  snow  began  to  fall, 
Edwin  and  his  family  had  new  blankets  and  plenty 
of  flour  in  their  teepee.  Then  the  others  talked  it 
over  and  said:  "Perhaps  the  spirits  will  not  be 
angry.  We  know  where  there  is  money  in  the 
rocks,  and  when  the  snow  goes  we  will  show  it  to 
the  white  man.  Then  he  will  give  us  horses,  blankets, 
and  flour."  But  one  calm  night  a  few  weeks  later 
some  of  the  old  men  were  grouped  round  a  camp- 
fire  on  the  flats  by  the  river,  and  Edwin  was  stand- 
ing before  them,  telling  about  an  exciting  buffalo 
chase.  Suddenly  he  fell  over  almost  into  the  fire. 
The  others  rushed  to  help  him,  but  he  was  dead ! 
Heart  disease— the  Indian  agent  said  it  was.    The 


n. 


H.l 


nDoraliti?  of  InNan  Momen 


289 


old  men  smiled  sadly  and  said  :  'Mn  the  springtime 
when  the  snow  melts  we  will  not  show  the  white 
man  where  there  is  money  in  the  rocks." 

The  Indians,  though  remarkably  bad  artists  them- 
selves, are  very  fond  of  music.  They  often  come  to 
the  agency  to  hear  the  piano  or  the  graphophone, 
the  latter  a  marvellous  invention  of  the  white  man 
which  they  do  not  comprehend,  and  in  admiration 
say,"  We  do  not  understand  whether  this  is  God  or 
the  dev'l  speaking." 

The  women  are  very  strict  in  their  ideas  of  moral- 
ity and  rarely  or  never  travel  alone.  Unless  her  hus- 
band is  present  a  woman  will  always  leave  a  room 
or  teepee  when  a  stranger  enters.  Though  family 
quarrels  sometimes  occur,  the  Stony  women  make 
faithful  and  loving  wives.  Their  position  is  higher 
than  among  most  Indians,  as  the  family  tie  is  not 
easily  broken,  and  labour  is  so  divided  that  some  of 
the  work  is  done  by  the  men.  The  women  dress 
and  tan  the  skins  of  moose,  leep,  and  mountain 
goats,  making  them  into  the  most  beautitully  pre- 
served leather  to  be  found  in  the  North- vvest.  They 
have  charge,  too,  of  the  family  treasury,  and  no  hus- 
band will  ever  close  a  bargain  without  first  consulting 
his  wife.  On  hunting  trips  the  women  do  the  cooki '  ig 
and  set  up  the  teepees,  which  require  thirteen  slender 
poles  stripped  of  their  bark.  To  the  men  falls  the 
excitement  of  hunting  no  less  than  the  labour  of  th« 
chase,  which,  among  the  heights  of  the  Rockies,  is 
exhausting  and  often  dangerous. 


i 

V        r 


J 


h 


I- 


',  t 


290 


ZTbe  'Rochiee  ot  Cana^a 


Strict  abstinence  from  alcohol  and  other  vices 
has  given  the  Stonies  health  and  vitality  that  make 
their  numbers  increase,  while  other  tribes  are  dwind- 
ling away.  But  among  all  primitive  peoples  im- 
ported diseases  find  a  virgin  soil,  and  the  Stonies 
likewise  have  suffered  terribly  from  measles,  small- 
pox, and  consumption.  An  old  Indian  acquaintance 
of  mine,  William  Twin,  once  told  me  pathetically 
that  he  could  sleep  no  more  from  thinking  about  the 
death  of  his  wife  and  children,  and  then  added,  "Only 
one  little  boy  left  now  — if  little  boy  die,  no  longer 
want  to  live,  me." 

The  Stonies'  welfare  in  peace  and  their  lives  in 
war  depend  on  their  horses,  and  it  is  little  wonder 
that  they  take  the  greatest  pride  in  them.  For  many 
years  past  they  have  obtained  good  horses  from  the 
Kootenay  Indians  in  British  Columbia,  so  that  they 
have  always  had  the  best  animals  of  the  western 
tribes.  They  have  recently  imported  eastern  stock 
to  improve  their  undersized  ponies. 

They  have  few  amusements,  but  are  very  sociable, 
and  nothing  pleases  them  more  than  to  recount  their 
adventures  in  a  kind  of  gesture  language  which  is 
comprehensible  even  to  a  stranger.  It  is  not  un- 
common to  see  an  Indian  on  his  knees,  before  an  at- 
tentive group  of  listeners,  carrying  out  in  pantomime 
every  detail  of  some  exciting  adventure,  and  with 
words  half  chanted  and  voice  like  one  calling  from 
afar,  relating  the  circumstances  of  hairbreadth  es- 
capes or  deeds  of  heroism. 


til 


It 


II' 


A  STONY  INDIAN   MOTHER  AND  CHILDREN 


I. 


u  ^ 


^lfc> 


a  Sear  Stoin? 


291 


Among  many  hunting  stories,  the  following  well 
illustrates  their  courage :  A  young  brave  named 
Susie  was  encamped  with  his  family  in  the  Porcu- 
pine Hills  east  of  the  Rockies.  After  hunting  sheep 
and  goats  all  day,  he  was  returning  to  his  teepee  and 
upon  entering  an  open  forest  glade  came  unex- 
pectedly on  a  huge  grizzly  bear.  He  fired,  though 
too  quickly  for  good  aim,  and  only  wounded  the 
bear  in  the  fore  foot.  Walking  backwards,  and  try- 
ing to  get  another  cartridge  in  his  rifle,  he  stumbled 
on  a  log  and  fell.  The  bear  jumped  upon  him  before 
he  could  recover.  Then  ensued  a  fight  to  the  death. 
The  Indian  turned  on  his  side  and  seized  the  bear's 
ear  with  his  left  hand.  In  the  other  he  held  his 
Hudson  Bay  hunting-knife,  a  formidable  weapon 
like  a  small  sword,  and  with  this  kept  striking  the 
bear  on  face  and  neck.  Biting  and  clawing,  the 
infuriated  animal  reared  on  his  hind  legs  several 
times  in  an  effort  to  throw  the  Indian  from  him.  At 
length  both  contestants,  weakened  from  loss  of 
blood,  fell  to  the  ground,  when  Susie,  with  a  des- 
perate effort,  drove  the  knife  between  the  bear's 
shoulders,  but  had  no  strength  to  pull  the  weapon 
out.  Maddened  with  pain,  the  bear  gave  his  head  a 
great  toss  and  threw  the  Indian  several  yards  to 
one  side. 

On  the  following  morning  Susie's  people  began 
to  search  for  him.  Within  a  few  yards  of  the  dead 
bear  the  Indian  was  found  and  carried  back  to  camp. 
There  they  dressed  his  wounds  and  roasted  the  feet 


r 


il 


f 


I: 


292 


Jibe  VoMcB  ot  Canada 


i^i 


'.,M 


of  the  grizzly,  that  he  might  eat  them  and  become  a 
mighty  hunter,  for  by  eating  the  bear's  feet  the 
spirit  of  the  animal  would  enter  and  give  him  cour- 
age. When  asked  what  he  thought  about  while 
the  fight  was  going  on  he  said  :  "1  was  thinking — 
why  is  a  bear's  ear  not  long  like  a  deer's  ?  " 

The  great  feast  of  the  year  is  at  New  Year's.  Every 
effort  is  made  by  the  hunting  parties  to  get  back 
from  the  mountains  before  then,  while  those  on  the 
reserves  spend  weeks  in  preparing  magnificent  cos- 
tumes of  fur  and  beadwork  for  this  occasion.  Upon 
the  festal  day  all  the  Indians  of  the  reserve  assemble 
in  two  bands,  each  led  by  a  chief.  After  a  volley 
from  firearms,  the  two  bands  come  together  and  pass 
each  before  the  other,  while  during  the  performance 
of  this  manoeuvre  every  Indian — man, woman, or  child 
— salutes  every  other  with  a  kiss.  Thereupon  they 
repair  to  the  largest  house  and  have  a  magnificent 
banquet,  their  white  guests  being  first  served  with 
articles  of  civilisation,  while  the  Indians  feast  on 
pemmican  made  of  the  meat  of  bear,  moose,  or  sheep 
mixed  with  fat,  sugar,  and  wild  berries.  Then  fol- 
low horse-races  and  manoeuvres  of  various  kinds, 
which,  together  with  the  award  of  prizes  to  the 
best-looking  squaws,  and  athletic  contests,  consume 
the  day.  In  the  evening  there  is  a  ball  with  primitive 
music,  where  the  dancers  are  urged  on  by  shuffling 
of  feet  and  an  unending  '*  Hi-i-i-i ! "  from  the  specta- 
tors, while  the  excitement  increases  till  at  length,  as 
in  a  tarentelle,  the  participants  are  ready  to  faint  from 


i 


in! 


-^  ■iiMi4M*MU4i|@^'>'i 


miKve  tbe  Stonica  6et  tbelr  Couraac   293 

exhaustion.    Though  there  is  much  that  is  uncouth 
and  savage  in  these  gatherings,  there  is  no  disorder 
and  the  stranger  will  be  kindly  and  hospitably  enter- 
tained by  his  decorated  hosts. 

The  Stonies  give  an  example  of  what  has  been  true 
throughout  the  world's  history,- that  hill  tribes  and 
mountam  peoples  have  always  been  fierce,  inde- 
pendent, and  unconquerable.    The  Stonies  get  their 
courage  among  the  perils  of  the  Rockies,  where  on 
hunting  trips  they  have  to  ford  rapid  and  dangerous 
rivers,  or  climb  the  precipices  of  the  highest  peaks 
and  face  the  cold  and  storms  of  dizzy  cliffs  where 
the  mountain  goat  and  bighorn  live.     They  have 
physical  courage  to  attack  the  grizzly  single-handed, 
or  engage  twice   their  number  in  battle.     These 
admirable  qualities,  with  their  honesty,  sobriety,  and 
much  that  is  best  in  civilisation,  give  a  new  hope  for 
all  Indian  tribes  through  their  example. 


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lil 


APPENDIX 


FACTS  OF   INTEREST  ABOUT  THE  LAKE  LOUISE  REGION 


n 


THE  following  information  about  trips  to  points  of  interest 
near  Lake  Louise  will  be  useful  to  visitors. 
To  those  having  but  one  day  to  spare,  it  would  be 
well  to  take  a  boat  and  visit  the  south  end  of  the  lake. 
If  this  is  done  in  the  morning,  the  afternoon  might  be  devoted 
to  an  ascent  of  The  Saddle,  on  foot,  or  with  ponies.  From  this 
point  a  magnificent  view  of  Paradise  Valley  and  Mt.  Temple 
may  be  had. 

By  those  having  two  or  three  days,  the  following  additional 
trips  should  be  made  :  (i)  To  Lake  Agnes,  and  possibly  the 
Lesser  Beehive  ;  or  even  an  ascent  of  Mt.  St.  Piran.  (2)  To  the 
glacier,  or  beyond  it  to  the  end  of  valley  and  cliflfs  of  Mt.  Victoria. 

A  fair  estimate  of  the  time  required  by  pedestrians,  in  good 
training,  to  reach  several  points  of  interest  will  be  given  below. 
Women  and  those  not  accustomed  to  walking  will  require  one- 
half  more  time  than  the  estimates  given. 

From  the  chalet  to  end  of  lake  by  boat,  20  minutes  ;  by 
trail,  round  lake,  25-30  minutes  ;  to  bridge  beyond  lake  by  boat 
and  then  by  trail,  35-40  minutes  ;  to  the  end  of  glacier  (follow 
close  to  north  side  of  stream  to  avoid  rock-slide  beyond  bridge), 
50  minutes  ;  to  walls  of  Mt.  Victoria,  i  hour  and  45  minutes. 

From  the  chalet  to  Mirror  Lake  (850  feet  ascent),  25-30 
minutes.  (The  trail  divides  a  short  distance  from  the  lake. 
The  trail  to  the  left  leads  to  Mirror  Lake  and  thence  by  the  base 
of  the  Beehive  to  Lake  Agnes,  the  last  twenty  feet  being  too 
steep  for  ponies  or  heavy  persons.  The  other  trail  does  not 
pass  Mirror  Lake,  but  ascends  sharply  and  comes  down  on  Lake 
Agnes  from  a  higher  slope.  The  scenery  on  this  trail  is  better 
than  the  other,  but  the  last  part  of  the  route  is  impracticable  for 
horses.)    To  Lake  Agnes,  40-50  minutes  ;  to  summit  of  Beehive, 

295 


►: 


i 


296 


Ebc  'Rochicd  of  <^ana^a 


hi 


\u 


Si     i 


n 


\l  hours.  (It  is  better  to  follow  the  north  shore  of  the  lake  and 
then,  skirting  round  the  shore  to  the  left,  commence  the  ascent  by 
the  steep  grassy  slope.)  To  summit  of  St.  Piran,  ij  hours; 
return,  40  minutes.  To  summit  of  Pope's  Peak,  3J-4  hours. 
(Ascend  amphitheatre  beyond  Lake  Agnes  and  climb  slopes  to 
the  right  till  an  altitude  of  seventy-nine  hundred  feet  is  reached, 
where  a  diagonal  gully  is  seen  leading  through  first  cliff.  When 
the  top  of  the  cirque  is  reached,  find  a  route  among  broken 
limestones  on  west  side  of  peak  to  the  top.) 

From  the  chalet  to  The  Saddle  (i8so  feet  ascent),  50-60 
minutes.  (Walk  from  new  hut  in  a  straight  line  one  hundred 
yards  to  edge  of  cliffs  for  the  best  view.)  To  Saddle  Mt.,  li 
hours.  (From  The  Saddle  this  is  a  short  scramble  over  great 
ledges  and  at  the  top  a  thrilling  view  may  be  had  into  Paradise 
Valley  from  a  vertical  precipice.)  To  summit  of  Fairview  Mt., 
2  hours.     (One  hour  from  Saddle.     Keep  to  the  right.) 

From  the  chalet,  through  woods  to  entrance  of  Paradise 
Valley,  ij  hours;  to  upper  end  of  valley,  5  hours.  (From  there 
to  summit  of  Mt.  Aberdeen  )l  hours,  or  of  Mt.  Temple  s  hours.) 
Through  woods  to  entrance  of  Desolation  or  Wenkchemna 
valley,  4  hours.  (The  openings  of  these  two  valleys  are  on  almost 
the  same  level  as  that  of  Lake  Louise.)  To  Moraine  Lake  5^,  6 
hours.     To  lake  in  Consolation  Valley,  6  hours. 

From  Hector  to  O'Hara  Lake  with  horses,  first  time  8  hours, 
second  6  hours,  on  foot  5-6  hours.  Returning  with  horses  sj 
hours,  on  foot  4  hours. 

From  the  upper  end  of  Paradise  Valley  you  may  enter 
Desolation  or  the  Wenkchemna  valley  by  high  passes  on  the 
north  and  south  of  Pinnacle  Mt.  The  pass  to  the  south  offers  a 
quick  route  to  the  valley  end,  whence  by  a  pass  between  Hunga- 
bee  and  Deltaforni  a  descent  may  be  made  into  Prospector's 
Valley  or  the  head  of  the  Vermilion.  A  snow  pass  leads  from 
this  into  the  valley  of  Lake  O'Hara.  Such  a  trip  would  require  a 
camp  or  bivouac  in  Paradise  Valley,  and  again  near  O'Hara  Lake. 
All  the  passes  are  too  rough  for  horses. 

Moraine  Lake  and  Consolation  Valley  may  be  visited  from 
Paradise  Valley  over  these  passes,  or  else  by  a  traverse  through 
the  woods  from  the  chalet,  north  of  Fairview  and  Temple.  The 
latter  journey  may  be  made  with  pack-horses  by  beating  a  way 
through  the  woods  on  a  nearly  level  traverse.     I  think  both 


BppenMj: 


297 


passes  at  the  head  of  Consolation  Valley  will  be  found  possible 
to  cross  on  foot.  The  one  to  the  south-east  leads  into  a  valley 
containing  a  lake  three  miles  long  and  full  of  fish.  The  other 
leads  into  the  Bow  valley,  and  to  a  smaller  lake  near  the  miners' 
huts  opposite  Eldon. 

O'Hara  Valley  may  be  visited  from  Hector  station.  Follow  the 
north  side  of  stream  in  a  sharp  ascent  to  the  top  of  the  valley  open- 
ing. Find  a  log  shortly  after  to  cross  stream,  and  follow  around 
south  shore  of  the  two  small  laives.  The  trail  soon  crosses  to  north 
side,  but  is  lost  in  open  burnt  timber  country.  After  a  mile  or  so 
it  comes  back  in  green  timber  to  south  side  on  .^  ridge  above  the 
cataract.  The  trail  makes  several  crossings  in  the  next  mile,  and 
is  very  hard  to  locate,  but  after  that  it  remains  on  the  south  side 
all  the  time.  The  trail  leads  to  within  less  than  a  quarter  mile  of 
the  lake,  but  turns  to  the  right  to  a  pass  into  the  Ottertail. 

NOTES  ON  CAMP  LIFE 

Equipment :  —  A  tent  with  walls  at  least  thirty  inches  high, 
seven  by  nine  feet,  is  a  convenient  size  for  two  or  three.  One 
four-point  Hudson  Bay  blanket  for  each  member  of  the  party, 
and  a  sleeping  bag  to  go  inside,  made  of  some  lighter  blanketing. 
A  canvas  sheet  to  lay  bedding  upon  and  keep  out  dampness  or 
cold.  In  setting  up  tent,  select  dry,  smooth  ground  and  face 
tent  so  as  to  have  probable  wind  sweep  across  the  opening. 
Smoke  from  fire  will  then  be  carried  to  one  side.  If  ground 
is  rough  or  damp,  cut  balsam  boughs,  and  make  bed  by  com- 
mencing at  upper  end  of  tent  and  lay  a  row  of  branches  with  all 
the  stems  pointing  towards  the  open  end.  Commence  second 
row  about  six  inches  below,  and  have  the  natural  arch  of  branches 
placed  convexly.  If  properly  done,  all  the  large  branches  will 
eventually  be  at  the  bottom  and  a  springy  bed  will  be  obtained. 
Let  each  man  have  his  own  place  to  sleep  in,  and  do  not  walk 
on  another's  blankets  at  any  time.  In  rainy  weather,  roll  up 
blankets  to  head  of  tent  and  use  to  sit  upon.  Sun  and  air 
blankets  whenever  possible.  A  pillow  may  be  improvised  at 
night  from  the  bag  of  extra  clothing,  sweaters,  or  coats  not  in 
use.  Air  pillows  are  very  comfortable  and  portable.  Have  the 
space  at  lower  end  of  tent  on  either  side  reserved  for  boots, 
cameras,  leggins,  and  other  articles  of  this  nature,  but  keep  an 


il 


298 


ZlK  Kocfilea  of  Cana^a 


,  ,' 


I  ■ 


open  space  for  entrance  and  exit.  If  the  tent  leaks  in  wet 
weatiier  it  is  not  properly  put  up.  Have  it  tiglit  and  free  from 
wrinkles,  and  do  not  touch  the  canvas  in  rainy  weather. 

Personal  effects :  —  One  serviceable  suit  of  strong  material. 
A  canvas  coat  for  wet  weather.  At  least  two  pairs  of  strong 
boots  that  have  been  broken  in  before  the  trip  is  made,  well 
hobbed  with  steel  or  Swiss  nails.  A  pair  of  slippers  or  easy 
shoes  for  camp.  In  fall  or  wet  summer  weather  some  kind  of 
heavy  rubber  overshoes  and  woollen  socks  are  the  only  sure  pre- 
ventative of  wet  and  cold  feet.  Army  leggins  or  spat  puttees 
are  almost  indispensable.  A  light  felt  hat  to  shade  eyes  from 
sun  and  snow-blindness.  A  heavy  woollen  sweater,  with  high 
neck  woven  whole  and  long  sleeves,  is  a  most  useful  garment. 
One  or  two  pairs  of  buckskin  gloves.  Two  or  more  changes 
of  underclothing  of  rather  warm  material  and  one  of  lighter. 
Vaseline  for  boots  and  hands,  lanoline  for  sunburn,  shaving  and 
toilet  articles,  and  a  small,  round  looking-glass.  A  small  kit  of 
tools,  containing  a  file,  gimlet,  nippers,  sandpaper,  fish-glue, 
brads  and  screws,  is  a  handy  thing  if  you  carry  cameras  or 
scientific  instruments  of  any  kind.  Some  kind  of  mosquito  oil 
containing  tar  and  pennyroyal  will  be  useful  in  calm  weather, 
or  on  fishing  trips.  Mosquito  nets,  or  a  yard  of  the  material  itself 
to  wind  round  the  neck  and  face,  will  be  needed  in  early  summer. 

Instruments:  —  An  aneroid  and  compass  are  indispensable 
for  all  exploratory  work  and  mountain  climbing.  A  prismatic 
compass  or  regular  plane-table  and  steel  tape  are  best  for  rough 
survey  work.  A  small  pocket  thermometer  and  field-glasses 
might  be  added  to  the  outfit. 

Notes  on  breaking  camp :  —  Get  up  immediately  on  announce- 
ment that  breakfast  is  ready,  and  do  not  delay  your  friends  or 
the  cook  by  taking  an  unusual  time  in  dressing.  After  break- 
fast, put  all  your  dishes  neatly  in  one  place  where  the  cook  can 
find  them  without  trouble.  While  the  men  are  making  ready, 
roll  up  your  blankets  and  tie  them  if  they  go  as  side  packs, 
otherwise  fold  and  lay  on  ground.  Arrange  next  your  gunni- 
sack  of  personal  effects.  Take  some  kind  of  lunch  to  eat  on  the 
trail,  no  matter  how  short  the  march  is  to  be,  or  how  little  you 
may  feel  like  eating  at  the  time.  Prepare  your  lunch  at  break- 
fast time,  and  do  not  ask  the  cook  to  open  up  his  boxes  and 
bags  the  last  minute.     See  that  the  cinches  and  bridle  on  your 


i  ^ 


appenDii: 


299 


saddle-horse  are  all  right  a  few  minutes  before  all  is  ready  to 
march. 

Notes  on  making  marches :  —  In  midsummer,  the  outfit 
should  be  ready  to  march  at  eight  o'clock.  This  gives  a  long 
day  and  the  coolest  part  of  it.  Do  not  march  more  than  six 
hours  except  under  unusual  circumstances.  In  long,  hot  marches 
it  is  sometimes  best  to  break  the  journey  by  an  hour's  rest,  dur- 
ing which  time  the  packs  are  thrown  off  and  the  horses  can 
feed  a  little.  A  fire  can  be  made  and  tea  served.  Otherwise  the 
men  arrive  in  camp  tired  and  hungry  to  find  some  of  their  hard- 
est work  before  them.  On  the  march,  the  saddle-horses  should 
be  mingled  among  the  pack  animals,  and  each  one  in  the  party 
should  help  drive  one  or  two  of  them.  Tie  their  heads  up,  if 
they  feed  persistently  along  the  tiail  and  delay  t'- outfit.  Do 
not  frighten  your  horses  if  they  run  off  into  the  brush,  as  they 
get  worse,  each  time.  Remember  that  the  packs  are  heaviest  and 
the  horses'  backs  most  tender  at  the  beginning  of  any  trip, 
and  that  you  can  travel  twice  as  fast  coming  home. 

Notes  on  making  camp:  —  Decide  approximately  about  where 
you  want  to  camp,  and  tell  the  head  packer  to  look  out  for  a 
good  camping  place  within  certain  limits  of  time  or  distance. 
Wood,  water,  and  dry  ground  with  a  pasture  near,  are  prime 
requisites.  When  the  horses  have  all  been  tied  to  trees,  un- 
saddle your  own  animal  and  turn  him  loose  unless  he  requires 
to  be  hobbled.  Treat  your  horse  gently  and  kindly,  and  you 
may  walk  up  to  him  at  any  time.  Never  make  a  sudden  move- 
ment to  catch  the  horse  or  the  reins.  Move  slowly  and  uncon- 
cernedly, so  that  your  pony  is  unconscious  of  what  is  going  on. 
Camp  should  be  made  by  two  o'clock.  This  allows  time  for 
the  men  to  make  a  proper  camp  and  do  whatever  cooking  is 
necessary,  and  also  gives  an  opportunity  for  short  excursions  in 
the  region  of  your  camp. 


(i 


HISTORICAL   FACTS  OF  INTEREST 


1795.  On  the  22d  of  July,  Alexander  Mackenzie  reached  the 
Pacific  coast  in  latitude  ^2"  20'  48'  after  having  crossed  the 
Rockies  by  way  of  the  Peace  River.  This  is  the  first  recorded 
overland  journey  across  the  continent  of  North  America. 

1809.  Jules  Quesnel,  Simon  Fraser,  and  John  Stuart  leave  a 


I 


mk'h 


u\ 


'  V 


300 


^be  Kochiee  of  Cana^a 


station  in  New  Caledonia  (now  British  Columbia)  and  descend 
a  river  supposed  to  be  the  Columbia.  The  mouth  of  this  large 
stream  proved  to  be  three  degrees  north  of  that  of  the  Columbia, 
and  was  named  the  Fraser  River. 

1817.  Ross  Cox  with  a  party  of  eighty-six  persons,  including 
Europeans,  Indians,  and  Hawaiians,  leave  the  colony  of  Astoria 
at  the  mouth  of  the  Columbia,  and,  ascending  that  river,  cross  the 
mountains  by  the  Athabasca  Pass.  Some  of  the  party,  too  weak 
to  continue  the  journey,  retreat  down  the  Columbia.  The  last 
survivor  from  death  by  starvation  was  reduced  to  cannibalism. 

1827.  The  botanist,  David  Douglas,  ascends  the  Columbia 
and  crosses  the  Rockies  by  the  Athabasca  Pass. 

1 84 1.  Sir  George  Simpson,  on  the  first  overland  journey  round 
the  world  from  east  to  west,  crosses  the  mountains  by  the 
Devil's  Lake,  Simpson  Pass,  and  Kootenay  River,  under  the 
guidance  of  an  Indian  named  Peechee. 

1858.  Gold  is  discovered  in  the  upper  waters  of  the  Fraser 
River.  This  leads  to  a  rapid  increase  of  population  in  British 
Columbia  and  the  building  of  waggon  roads. 

1857.  The  Palliser  expedition  is  set  on  foot  by  Her  Majesty's 
Government.  The  three  objects  of  this  expedition  were  to  find 
a  shorter  route  between  eastern  and  western  Canada,  to  explore 
the  western  plains,  and  to  find  one  or  more  passes  across  the 
Rocky  Mountains  south  of  the  Athabasca  Pass,  but  still  in  British 
territory.  Besides  Captain  Palliser,  who  was  in  charge,  the 
expedition  consisted  of  Dr.  Hector,  Lieutenant  Blakiston,  Mr. 
Sullivan,  and  M.  Bourgeau.  On  this  journey  Dr.  Hector  crosses 
the  Vermilion  and  Howse  passes  and  discovers  the  Kicking 
Horse  Pass,  so  named  by  his  men  from  the  circumstances  of  a 
severe  kick  which  he  received  from  his  horse  at  a  point  near  the 
mouth  of  the  Beaverfoot  River. 

1862.  Viscount  Milton  and  Dr.  Cheadle  cross  the  mountains 
and  descend  the  north  branch  of  the  Thompson  River. 

1867.  The  colony  of  Canada  unites  with  New  Brunswick  and 
Nova  Scotia  to  make  the  Dominion  of  Canada.  The  Hudson 
Bay  Company  sells  its  rights  to  the  central  and  north-western 
parts  of  British  North  America. 

1871.  British  Columbia  enters  the  Dominion  of  Canada,  and 
the  first  survey  parties  for  a  transcontinental  railroad  commence 
work. 


appcnMy 


301 

r.Urn!^'  '^';"^^^''^^'-"'"ent  gives  up  its  efforts  to  construct  a 

Si   wnii'    V      T''^'.'''  ''  '"'■"^'^  °^^^  *°  '  corporation  with 
Sir  William  Van  Home  in  control. 

i88j  Captain  Rogers  discovers  a  pass  which  now  bears  his 
name,  through  the  Selkirk  Range. 

1886.  The  Canadian  Pacific  Road  is  completed,  and  the  first 
through  trains  begin  to  cross  Canada. 

LIST    OF     FIRST     ASCENTS    OF    SOME     MOUNTAINS     OVER     NINETY-FIVE 

HUNDRED   FEET    HIGH 


■s  ■ 


1887, 
1888, 
1889, 


1890 


I89I 


1892. 


1894. 


1895. 


Mt.  Stephen,  10,428  feet,  by  J.  J.  McArthur. 
Cascade  Mt.,  near  Banff,  9796  feet,  by  J.  J.  McArthur. 
Three    Sisters    (highest     peak),  9730    feet,    by  J.  J 
McArthur.  -'   j    j 

Mt.  Bourgeau,  9487  feet,  by  J.  J.  McArthur. 
Storm  Mt.,  10,330,  by  St.  Cyr. 

uf  ^."L^^"  "'-'^'■^'^'"iPson  Pass,  9667,  byj.  J.  McArthur. 
Wind  Mt.,  nearCanmore,  10,100,  by  St  Cyr 
•  North    end    of  Castle    Mt.    Ridge,    9546,    by    I     j 
McArthur.  -^    j     j- 

Station  south  of  Mt.  Hector,  9830.  by  J.  J.  McArthur. 
Station  north  of  Mt.  Hector,  988s,  by  J.  J.  McArthur. 
Panther  Mt.(Lat.  5,°  3,.'  Long.  115°  40'  W.),  9^6^,  by 

J.  J.  McArthur. 
Peak  north  of  Cascade  Mt.   (Lat.    51°  21'  30'    Lon^ 

n5°3i'),  9=>6o,  byJ.J.  McArthur. 
Bonnet  Peak.    At   headwaters  of  Cascade  River  and 

Baker  Creek,  10,260,  by  J.  J.  McArthur. 
Peak   south-east  from  Hector  station,  9^2=^,  by  I    I 

McArthur.  .^  j-  j- 

Station  18  on  North  Branch  Kicking  Horse  River,  west 

of  Mt.  Balfour,  10,400,  by  J.  J.  McArthur. 
Mt.  Owen,  in  Ottertail  Range,  10,000.  by  J.  J.  McArthur. 
Mt.  Aberdeen,  10,4^0,  by  L  F.  Frissell,  S.  E.  S.  Allen 

and  W.  D.  Wilcox. 
Mt.  Temple,  11,607,  by  L  F.  Frissell,  S.  E.  S.  Allen 

and  W.  D.  Wilcox. 
Peak  north  of  Little  Fork  Pass,  10,150,  by  W.  Peyto 

and  W.  D.  Wilcox. 


'  ] 


I 


302 


ZlK  ItocMea  of  Canada 


1896.  Mt.  Hector,  11,205,  by  P.  S.  Abbot,  C.  E.  Fay,  and  C. 

S.  Thompson. 
"      Peak  between  the  Saskatchewan  and  Athabasca  rivers, 
10,000,  by  R.  L.  Barrett  and  W,  D.  Wilcox. 

1897.  Mt.  Lefroy,  11,115,  by  J.  N.  Collie,  H.  B.  Dixon,  A. 

Michael,  C.  E.  Fay,  C.  L.  Noyes,  C.  S.  Thompson, 
H.  C.  Parker,  J.  R.  Vanderlip,  and  Peter  Sarbach. 

"  Mt.  Victoria,  11,260,  by  J.  N.  Collie,  A.  Michael,  C.  E. 
Fay,  and  P.  Sarbach. 

"  Mt.  Gordon,  10,600,  by  J.  N.  Collie,  H.  B.  Dixon,  A. 
Michael,  C.  E.  Fay,  C.  L.  Noyes,  C.  S.  Thompson, 
H.  C.  Parker,  G.  P.  Baker,  and  P.  Sarbach. 

"  Mt.  Sarbach,  ii.ioo,  by  J.  N.  Collie,  G.  P.  Baker,  and 
P.  Sarbach. 

1898.  Mt.  Balfour,  10,845,  by  C.  S.  Thompson,  C.  L.  Noyes, 

G.  M.  Weed. 
Mt.  Niles,  9700,  by  C.  E.  Fay  and  C.  Campbell. 
Athabasca  Peak,  1 1,900,  by  J.  N.  Collie  and  H.  Woolley. 
Diadem  Peak,  11,500,  )    byj.  N.  Collie,  H.  Woolley, 
The  Dome,  11,600,     j         and  H.  E.  M.  Stutfield. 
Thompson  Peak,  11,000,  by  J.  N.  Collie,  H.  Woolley, 

and  H.  E.  M.  Stutfield. 

1899.  Pope's  Peak,  9825,  by  W.  D.  Wilcox. 


LIST  OF  FIRST  ASCENTS  OF  SOME  MOUNTAINS  OVER  NINE  THOUSAND 
FEET  HIGH  IN  THE  SELKIRK  RANGE — PREPARED  FOR  THIS  WORK 
BY   PROFESSOR   CHARLES   E.    FAY 

1888.  Mt.   Bonney,    10,625   feet,  by  W.  S.    Green    and  H. 
Swanzy. 
"      Green's  Peak,  9700  feet,    by  W.    S.   Green  and   H. 
Swanzy. 
1890.  Mt.  Sir  Donald,   10,645  feet,  by  E.  Huber,  C.   Sulzer, 
and  H.  Cooper. 
"      Uto  Peak,  9500  feet,  by  E.  Huber,  C.  Sulzer. 

Mt.  Purity,  10,100  feet,  by  E.  Huber,  H.  W.  Topham, 
and  Mr.  Foster. 
"      Swiss  Peak,  10,600  feet,  by  C.  Sulzer  and  a  porter. 
"      Mt.  Fox,  10,000  feet,     )  by  H.  W.  Topham  and  two 

t,  j  porters. 


Mt.  Donkin,  9700  feet. 


HppcnMy  303 

1890.  Mt  Sugar  Loaf.  io,2so  feet,  by  E.  Huber,  H.  W   Tod- 
nam,  and  Mr.  Forster.  '       ^ 

.893.  Eagle  Peak.  9.00  feet.  |  by  S.  E.  S.  Allen    and 

,«n.    M ;  r  'T'  ^^o"t  9000  feet.  |        W.  D.  Wilcox. 

^^•^Castor.^9.«3^feet.byP.S.Abbot,  C.S.Thompson. 

1896.  Mt.  Rogers,  10,630  feet,  by  P.  S.  Abbot,  G.  T    Little 

and  C.  S.  Thompson.  '  ' 

1897.  Mt.  Pollux,  9250  feet   )  ^^  ^'  ^-  ^^^°^'  ^-  Michael, 
"      The  Dome,  9100  feet'  (  ^'  ^-  ^^"^^erlip.  C.  L.  Noyes. 

•  fin.    M*  r^  '  '     ^'  ^'  ^^y*  ^"^  ^-  Sarbach. 

1899.  Mt.  Dawson    .0,800  feet,  by  H.  C.  Parker,  C.  E.  Fay 
Chr.  Hasler,  and  E.  Feuz. 

no 


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INDEX 


Abbot,  P.  S.,  245 
Abbot's  Pass,  249 
Accident,  a  remarkable,  59 
Allen,  S.  S.,  95,  239 
Alpine  laites,  108,  204 
Alpine  lily,  7? 

Appalachian  Mountain  Club,  first  ascents 

of,  245 
Aspen,  poplar,  65 

Assiniboines,  a  tribe  of  Indians,  284 
Astley,  W.  J.,  42,  248 
Athabasca  country,  entrance  of,  168 
Athabasca  Pass,  the,  1 50 
Athabasca  Peak,  view  from,  253 
Athabasca  River,  171 

source  of,  1 74 
August  snow-storm,  an,  198 

Badger,  whistling,  66 

Baker,  G.  P.,  251 

Balsam,  spruce,  62 

Banff,  5 

Banff,  distance  to  Laggan,  43 

Banff  Springs  Hotel,  7 

Barrett,  R.  L.,  70,  152,  264 

Bath  Creek,  251 

Bay,  the,  131,  132 

Bears,  occurrence  of,  271 

Bear  story,  an  Indian,  291 

Bighorn,  268 

Birch,  scrub,  16 

Blaeberry  valley,  the,  191 

Blind  valley,  91 

Blue-bells,  217 

Bow  River,  fine  fishing  in,  274 

Brett,  Dr.,  43 

Bryant,  Henry  G.,  98 

Bryanthus,  30 


Bull-dog  fly,  2 1 

Burnt  timber  of  the  Bow  valley,  140 

Calypso,  74 

Cambrian  formations,  235 

Camp,  a  burnt  timber,  79 

a  deserted  prospector's,  221 
breakfasts,  122 
derivation  of  customs,  114 
early  morning  in,  1 2 1 
fires,  best  kind  of,  134 
fires,  the  Indian's,  134 
in  deep  snow,  193 
in  Paradise  Valley,  57 
life,  increasing  popularity  of,  115 
making  after  a  day's  march,    118 
128 
Camping  trips,  preparations  for,  1 1 5 

where  to  commence,  1 16 
Canadian  National  Park,  5 
Canadian  Pacific  Road,  its  commence- 
ment, 5 
Canyon  on  the  Upper  Vermilion,  224 
Carboniferous  formations,  230 
Cascade  Mt.,  237 
Chickadees,  232 
Chiefs  of  the  Stonies,  285 
Chiniquay,  chief,  285 
Chiniquay,  Tom,  42,  285 
Cold  Water  Lake,  the,  144 
Coleman   and  Stuart's  journey   to   Mt. 
Brown,   [52 
trail,  170 
Collie,  Dr.  J.  Norman,  249,  251 
Colour  effects  at  Lake  Louise,  25 
Colours  of  sunrise,  28 
Columbine,  the  yellow,  15 
Consolation  Valley,  204 


305 


:  i 


■!■ 


306 


1n^e]: 


Continental  divide,  00 

Copper  mine,  near  Eldon,  206 

Cordillera,  Pacific,  its  extent,  2 

Cottonwood,  05 

Courage,  effect  of  cold  on,  46 

Cow-parsnip,  219 

Cox,  Ross,  crosses  the  mountains,  151 

Coyote,  seen  in  high  mountains,  2 1 3 

Cross  River,  north  fork  of,  94 

Cycles,  in  abundance  of  game,  259 

Death  Trap,  the,  246,  249 
Delta  of  Lake  Louise,  18 
Denny,  a  pack-horse,  132,  133 
DeSmet,  a  missionary,  259 
Desolation  Range,  223 
Desolation  Valley,  197 

view  of,  from  Mt.  Temple,  245 
Devil's  Club,  the,  180 
Devil's  Gap,  8 
Devil's  Lake,  8 
Devonian  formations,  236 
Discovery  of  a  pass  between   the  Sas- 
katchewan and  Athabasca,  167 
Dolomites,  236 

Douglas,  David,  the  botanist,  151 
Douglas  fir,  2,  II,  65,  283 
Dryas,  a  rosaceous  plant,  178 
Ducks,  species  of,  272 

Edwards,  Ralph,  84,  86 
Edwin,  the  Gold  Seeker,  13,  288 
Effect  of  cold  on  courage,  46 
Environment  of  Lake  Louise,  33 
Epilobium  (fireweed),  several  species  of, 

60 
Extent  of  the  Canadian  Rockies,  4 

Fairview  Mt.,  54 

height  above  Lake  Louise,  19 
Fay,  Prof.  Charles  E.,  245 
Fireweed,  several  species  of,  60 
Fish,  in  Upper  Bow  Lake,  146 
Fishing  in  Canadian  mountains,  273 

opportunities  for,  279 
Flowers  near  Lake  Lou'se,  15 
Fool-hen,  125 

Forest  fire  in  Bear  Creek  valley,  1 54 
Forest  fires,  cause  of,  1S7 


extent  of,  1^7 

prehistoric,  159 

rate  of  progress  of,  158 
Forests  of  the  Canadian  Rockies,  61 
Fortress  Lake,  1 72 

east  end  of,  1 73 

no  fish  in,  273 

west  end  of,  178 
Forty-mile  Creek,  remarkable  lake  in,  1 79 
Frissell,  Lewis,  ■54,  41,  243 

Game  in  the  Canadian  mountains,  258 

Ghost  River,  8 

Glacial  mud  from  Lake  Louise,  1 9 

Glacial  period,  236 

Glacier  Lake,  184 

Glissade,  a  strange,  so 

Gnats,  grey,  216 

Goat  meat,  how  to  serve  it,  264 

Goat,  Rocky  Mountain,  259 

abundance  near  Lake  Louise,  266 
curious  experience  with,  278 
incident  with  a  young,  265 

Green,  Dr.  W.  S.,  2^6 

Grouse,  various  species  of,  272 

Guides,  absence  of,  117 

Healy,  Joe,  288 
Healy's  Creek,  72 
Hector  station,  233 

Heights,  comparative,  of  mountain  sys- 
tems, 3 
Henderson,  Yandell,  34 
Horses,  pitiful  state  of,  194 
Howse  Pass,  the,  148 

origin  of  name,  1 90 
Huts  of  trappers,  237 

Indian  pony,  290 

nature  of,  1 30 

origin  of,  130 
Indian,  sarcasm,  53 

trailing,  remarkable,  138 

village  at  Morley,  283 
Indians,  Stony,  281 

great  hunters,  272 
Iron  spring  on  the  Vermilion,  224 

Kananaskis  lakes,  279 


In^ejp 


307 


Labrador  tea,  15 
Lake  Agnes,  37 
Lake  Aline,  80,  loS 

Lake  Louise,  colour  of  water,  cause  of,  19 
daily  rise  and  fall  of  wind  at,  21' 
first  visitors  to,  1  ? 
general  description  of,   14 
ice  melts  from,  23 
location,  12 
origin  of  name,  1 3 
temperature  of  water,  20 
Landslide,  a  tremendous,  106 
Larch,  Lyall's,  63 
Larvae  of  insects  in  water,  216 
Lily,  Alpine,  late  blossoming  of,  22; 
Little  Beehive,  view  from,  38 
Little  Fork  Pass,  the,  147 
Little  Fork  valley,  description  of,  160 
Little,  Prof.  G.  T.,  246 
Loon,  29 

Lower  Bow  Lake,  142 
Lusk,  Tom,  153,  213 
Lyall's  larch,  63 

limits  of  growth  of,  63,  64 

McArthur,  238,  245 

Mackenzie,  Alexander,  i^o 

Maps  of  the  mountains,  1 1 7 

Marching  through  the  mountains,   124, 

'25 
Marmot,  hoary,  66 

Parry's,  82 

whistle  of,  37 
Michael,  Prof.  Arthur,  249 

Middle  fork  of  the  Saskatchewan,  183 
Minnewanka  Lake,  8 

largest  fish  caught  in,  278 
Mitre,  a  mountain,  45 
Mitre  col,  view  from,  47,  48 
Moraine  Lake,  description  of,  199 
fishing  in,  202,  276 
name  given  to,  199 
Morley  station,  282 
Mosquitoes,  varieties  of,  20 
Mount  Aberdeen,  first  ascent  of,  243 
Alberta,  255 

Assiniboine,   a   gathering-place   for 
storms,  109 


distanee  round  its  base,  qo 
first  journey  round,  80 
first  view  of,  81 
general  description  of,  1 10 
location  of,  69 
measurement  of,  85 
named  by  Dr.  Dawson,  09 
nature  of  surrounding  valleys,  82 
partial  ascent  of,  108 
second  visit  to,  98 
south  side  of,  93 
various  routes  to,  111,  112 
Balfour,  142 

first  ascended,  2ii 
Ball,  215 
Brown,  150 

Bryce,  named  by  Collie,  254 
Columbia,  255 
Deltaform,  221,  250 

south  side  of,  221 
Fairview,  251 
Forbes,  description  of,  252 

fine  view  of,  188 
Goodsir,  228,  257 
height  of,  250 
Hector,  first  attempt  on,  by  survey- 
ors, 238 
view  from,  24s 
Hooker,  150 

measurements  of,  175 
Hungabee,  60,  221,  225 

nature  of,  256 
Lefroy,  avalanche  from,  29 
fatal  accident  on,  248 
first  ascent  of,  249 
first  attempt  on,  246 
Lyell,  253 
Murchison,  188 

heitht  of,  253 
St.  Firai.,  i>^\ 

Sarbach,  first  ascent  of,  2;r 
Sir  Donald,  two  ascents  of,  235 
Stephen,  ?irst  ascent  of,  23S 

two  ai  ents  of,  21s 
Temple,  5:,  5, 

an  impassable  barrier  of,  241 
north  face  of,  240 
summit  of,  244 


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Mount  Vaux,  3s8,  2^7 
Victoria,  14 

height  of,  by  barometer,  2Sf> 
partial  ascent  of,  2 19 
south  siiic  of,  232 
summit  of,  250 
Mountain  ash,  219 

Mountain  climbing  in  the  Rockies,  2 -,4 
Mountains,  height  of,  in  Canada,  2-\=, 
Muir,  John,  description  of  wild  sheep,  200 
Mules,  intelligence  of,  1  ;o 

not  used  in  Canadian  Rockies,  1 1  ^ 
Muskegs,  142 

accident  in,  153 

North  fork  of  the  Saskatchewan,  i()i 
North-west  Mounted  Police,  5 

October  at  Lake  Louise,  27 
O'Hara  Lake,  colour  of  water,  212 

general  description  of,  233 

origin  of  name,  232 
Orchis,  the  round-leafed,  74 
Oregon  grape,  the,  180 
Ottertail  River,  228 

Packing  up,  in  camp,  122 

Paradise  Valley,  54 

Peechee,  an  Indian  guide,  9 

Peecock,  Ross,  197 

Peyto,  Bill,  72,  222,  2s  1,  252 
a  character  sketch,  1 19 
experience  on  the  Pipestone,  135 

Pica,  66 

Pilot  Mountain,  38 

Pine,  63 

Pine  bullfinch,  remarkable  tameness  of, 
15s 

Pinnacle  Mountain,  241 

Pinto,  a  pack-horse,  131,  135 

Pipestone  Pass,  2S3 

Plains  of  Canada,  1 

Porcupine,  06 
traits  of,  218 

Porter,  J.  F.,  70 

Potentilla,  200 

Prospectors,  terrible  experience  of,  1 36 

Prospector's  Valley,  224 

Ptarmigan,  273 


Rafting,  on  Fortress  Lake,  176 

on  the  Bow,  222 
Rainy  Valley,  220 
Rnt,  mountain,  66 
Raven,  171 

Red-bellied  ground  squirrel,  83 
Rhododendron,  16,  203 
Riel  rebellion,  284 
Rock-falls  near  Moraine  Lake,  201 
Rogers's  explorations,  72 
Rundle,  a  Methodist  missionary,  383 

Saddle,  the,  ;4 

St.  Cyr  ascends  Storm   Mountain  and 

Wind  Mountain,  238 
Sarbach,  Peter,  a  Swiss  guide,  349,  251 
Saskatchewan  River,  in  flood,  214 

size  of,  160 
Selkirk  Range,  first  climbing  in,  2;6 

rock  formations,  235 
Sheep,  Rocky  Mountain,  208 

rare  experience  with,  271 

where  found,  269 
Siffleur  Valley,  256 
Simpson,  Pass,  altitude  of,  74 

River,  source  of,  84 

Sir  George,  9 

valley,  nature  of,  76 

rapid  descent  into,  105 
upper  part  of,  106 
Snow-slides,  effects  of,  219,  229 

near  Moraine  Lake,  201 
Snow-storm  in  August,  19S 

in  summer,  100 
Spray  lakes,  large  fish  of  the,  277 
Spruce,  balsam,  62 

white,  62 
Steele,  Louis  J.,  98 
Stephens,  Fred,  1^3,  264 
Stony  Indians,  281 

courage  of,  293 

education  of,  285 

moral  traits  of,  286 

New  Year's  celebrations  of,  292 

origin  of,  2S9 

superstitions  among,  287 

treaty  with,  283 
Stony  Indian  women,  289 


ln^cy 


309 


Storm  Mountain,  31; 

Storms  in  the  mountains,  14 

Stuart   and    Coleman's  journey  to   Mt, 

Brown,  152 
Stutfield,  H.  E.  M.,252 
Sunlight,  marvellous  influence  of,  123 

Tameness  of  n  wild  bird,  is; 
Thompson,  C.  3.,  24^,  251 
Topographical  surveyors,  238 
Tower  of  Babel,  199,  20a 
Trails,  degeneration  of,  127 

origin  of,  126 
Tree-line,  61 

Trout  in  Lake  Louise,  20 
Twin,  William,  42,  53,  290 

his  remarkable  trail  work,  138 

Upper  Bow  Lake,  144 
Van  Home  Range,  257 


Vermilion,  lakes,  10 

River,  north-west  branch,  226 
origin  of  name,  224 
real  source  of,  225 

Victoria  glacier,  59 

Waputehk  Range,  no,  251 
Warrington,  George,  14 
Wasps,  fights  with  bull-dogs,  2 1 
Weather  in  Canadian  mountains,  237 
Whirlpool  River,  its  nature,  170' 
Whirlwind  from  forest  fire,  1S7 
White-crested  sparrow,  80,  204 

Wildman,  Enoch,  219 

Wilson,  Tom,  70,  iis,  248 
descends  the  Blaeberry,  192 
first  visit  to  Lake  Louise,  12 

Wind  iVIountain,  238 

Wolverenes,  82 

Wood  River,  180 

Woolley,  H.,  252 


■ 


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IMAGE  EVALUATION 
TEST  TARGET  (MT-3) 


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ROCKY  MO U NTAI NS 

BETWEEN    LATITUDES  50*3d&52*3d 

Showing  the  rivers  and  indian  trails  so  fiirasknown 


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MAP 

OF  THE  LAKE  LOUISE  region  showing  part 
THE  Summit  Range  of  the  Canadian  Rocky  N 

SURVEYED   AND    DRAWN  BY 
WALTER    D.WILCOX. 

SCALE     I    AND     1-2    INCH    -    I    MILE. 


6LACICR8 

LAKES 
TRAILS 


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COPVRIQHT  BY  a  P.  PUTNAM' 


^M'8  SONS. 


